HE  NOPTH 
Sll°RE  WCH 


7\ND 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


16118 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE.  In  American  Men 
of  Letters  Series.  With  Portrait.  i6mo, 
$1-25- 

THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH,  AND 
OTHER  POEMS.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


/6//S 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 


AND   OTHER   POEMS 


BY 


GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRY 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

(iCbe  3&toer0i&e  prejjs,  Cambridge 

1890 


Copyright,  1890, 
BY  GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  River  tide  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  NOBTH  SHORE  WATCH         ....         5 

AGATHON 31 

MY  COUNTRY 75 

SONNETS 

To  THOSE  WHO  REPROVED  THE  AUTHOR   FOR 
TOO  SANGUINE  PATRIOTISM      .        .        .        .95 

OUR  FIRST  CENTURY 96 

To  LEO  XIII 97 

ON  THE  HUNDREDTH    ANNIVERSARY    OF    THE 

FRENCH  REVOLUTION 98 

AT  GIBRALTAR.    1 99 

AT  GIBRALTAR.    II. 100 

ITALIAN  VOLUNTARIES 

LINES 103 

ANECDOTES  OF  SIENA 104 

VICTOR'S  BIRD 108 

IN  THE  SQUARE  OF  ST.  PETER'S      .        .        .      116 

NEAR  BALE 116 

LOVE  DELAYED 117 

TAORMINA 118 

IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  ^ETNA      ....      120 
BE  GOD'S  THE  HOPE 123 


THE   NORTH    SHORE  WATCH 


CLARENCE    LAIGHTON    DENNETT 

SEPTEMBER  6,  1854 — JUNE  5,  1878 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 


i. 

FIRST  dead  of  all  my  dead  that  are  to  be, 
Who  at  life's  flush  with  me  wast  wont  to 

roam 

The  pine-fringed  borders  of  this  surging  sea, 
From  far  and  lonely  lands  Love  brings  me 

home 

To  this  wide  water's  foam  ; 
Here  thou  art  fallen  in  thy  joyful  days, 

Life  quenched  within  thy  breast,  light  in  thy 

eyes; 
And  darkly  from  thy  ruined  beauty  rise 

These  flowerless  myrtle-sprays ; 
The  hills  we  trod  enfold  thee  evermore, 
The  gray  and  sleepless  sea  breaks  round  the  or 
phaned  shore. 


8       THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

II. 

All  things  are  lovely  as  they  were,  and  still 
They  draw  with   gladness  toward  me  as  a 

friend ; 

The  evening  star  doth  touch  me  with  the  thrill 
Of   welcome,   and   the   waves    their  voices 

blend 

To  hail  my  exile's  end. 
Oft  while  I  wandered  in  those  weary  lands, 
This  dear-remembered  shore  would  comfort 

me, 
Seeing  in  thought  the  everlasting  sea 

Washing  his  yellow  sands  ; 
But  now  the  scene  I  longed  for  gives  me  pain 
Since   he  is  dead,  and  ne'er  shall  feel  its  joy 
again. 

ni. 

Still  planet,  making  beautiful  the  west, 

Bright  bringer  of  the   stars  and  sheltered 

sleep, 

Easing  our  hearts,  as  some  beloved  guest, 
Whom  for  a  little  while  our  eyes  may  keep, 

And  through  long  years  shall  weep  ; 
O  eloquent  with  flashes  to  the  soul, 

Even  as  his  eyes  beneath  thy  pure  empire 
Beamed  the  mute  music  of  the  heart's  desire, 

Thee,  too,  doth  fate  control ; 
And  brief  as  his  thy  hour  of  light  must  be  — 
To  earth  her  starry  hush,  my  solitude  to  me  ! 


THE  NORTH  SHORE    WATCH  9 

IV. 

Yet  here  our  day  spring  long  ago  was  born, 
While    heaven   still   hovered    near   earth's 

dusky  frame  ; 

Light  touched  the  isles,  and  joyously  the  morn 
O'erflowed  the  orient  with  prophetic  flame, 

And  on  the  waters  came, 

Crimson  and  pearl,  and  woke  the  singing  shore  ; 
On  over   murmuring  waves  the   glad  light 

swept ; 
On  through  the  west  the  loosened  glory  leapt 

The  far  blue  uplands  o'er ; 
And  slowly  rose  the  sun,  and  made  the  sea 
White  with  his  splendor,  and  filled  heaven  with 
purity. 

v. 

Upon  this  beach  we  welcomed  in  the  world, 

And  loved  the  lore  of  its  wise  solitude, 
Where  on  the  foaming  sands  the  surges  swirled, 
Or  broad,  blue-belted  calm,  in  blessed  brood, 

Lay  many  a  shining  rood  ; 
Here  in  that  prime  we  kept  our  boyish  tryst, 

When  woke  our  April  and  the  need  to  rove  ; 
We  trod  the  mantle  that  the  white  moon  wove, 

We  pierced  the  star-looped  mist ; 
And  ever  where  our  eager  feet  might  roam, 
The  air  was  morning,  and  the  loneliest  spot  was 
home. 


10      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

VI. 

The  eloquent  voices  of  the  yearning  sea 

Called  to  us,  strong  as  syllables  of  fate, 
And,  wafting  in,  like  some  lost  memory, 
Subdued  us  to  the  haunting  hopes  that  wait 

Round  boyhood's  rapt  estate  ; 
The  deep  spell  moved,  a  passion  in  our  blood, 
And  made  the  throbbing  of  our  hearts  keep 

time 
Unto  the  laughter  of  the  waves,  and  chime 

With  thunders  of  the  flood  ; 
And  subtly  as  a  dream  takes  hue  and  form, 
Our  spirits   clothed  their  youth  in   ocean's   sun 
and  storm. 

vn. 
Still  would  we  watch,  wave-borne  from  dawn 

to  dark, 

The  pools  of  opal  gem  the  windless  bay ; 
Or  touch  at  eve  the  purple  isles,  and  mark 
Where,  by  the  moon,  far  on  the  edge  of  day, 

The  shore's  pale  crescent  lay ; 
Or  up  broad  river-reaches  are  we  gone, 

Through  sunset  mirrored  in  the  hollow  tide  — 
In  beauty  sphered,  as  some  lone  bird  enskied, 

The  halcyon  boat  drifts  on, 
To  twilight,  and  the  stars,  and  deepest  night, 
With  phosphorescent  gleams,  and  dark  oars  drop 
ping  light. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      11 

VIII. 
Ah,  then  a  presence  moved  within  this  deep, 

That  more  than  beauty  made  its  regions  dear  ; 
O'er  the  long  levels  of  its  golden  sleep 

The  light  that  beams  from  the  eternal  year 

Flashed  on  the  spirit  clear  ; 
And  wheresoe'er  we  saw  the  ocean  roll, 
With  sounds  of  harmony  his  waves  among, 
The  song  that  breathed  before  the  lyre  was 

strung 

Gave  echo  to  the  soul ; 
And  tremulous  the  immortal  instincts  woke 
That  prophesy  of  Him  in  whom  the  sweet  dawn 
broke. 

IX. 

Alas,  the  faery  light  that  truth  once  wore  ! 

Alas,  the  easy  questing  of  the  heart ! 
When,  by  the  hushed  and  visionary  shore, 
The  dreaming  hope,  wherein  all  things  have 

part, 

Made  our  young  pulses  start ! 
Once,  once  I  knew  thy  sweetness,  O  salt  sea ! 
I  reaped  along  thy  furrows  bearded  grain ; 
Thy  groves,  that  never  drink  the  sun  nor  rain, 

Gave  nectarous  fruit  to  me  ; 
And  all  thy  herbless  pastures  yielded  wine, 
Deep-hearted,    fragrant,  bright  —  ah,  then   his 
hand  clasped  mine  ! 


12      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

X. 
Ay,  heart  with  heart  companioned  we  went  on, 

And  ever  lovelier  was  the  wooded  shore  ; 
More  joyous  bloomed  the   May,  and  warmer 

shone 
The  slant  light  down  the  forest's  muffled  floor, 

With  music  vaulted  o'er  ; 
Ah,  when  the  bluebird  through  the  meadows 

darts, 

Still  yellow  dogtooths  gleam  amid  the  brakes , 
And  fearlessly  on  all  the  green-leaved  lakes 

Lilies  unfold  their  hearts  ; 
Earth's  children  slumber  when  the  wild  winds 

rise  — 

The  tempest  passes  o'er,  and  heaven  looks  through 
their  eyes. 

XI. 

But  the  dark  pines,  whose  heart  is  like  the  sea's, 
Mourn  for  one  darling  flower  they  nurtured 

here, 

With  morning  fed,  and  deep,  deep  harmonies  — 
The  sweetest  blossom  that  the  windy  year 

E'er  rifled  and  left  sere  ; 
Wake,  O  ye  violets  preluding  the  May, 
And  many  a  barren  slope  for  beauty  win  ! 
Burst,  O  white  laurels,  flush  your  cups  within, 

And  whisper,  spray  to  spray ! 
But  till  the  cypress  buds,  and  blooms  the  yew, 
The  sylvan  year  brings  not  the  love  that  once  ye 
knew. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      13 

XII. 

Too  swiftly  fled  the  green  and  fragrant  time  ! 
Bleak  on  the  vacant  earth  the  North  Wind 

fell, 

Bitter  and  fierce,  to  beat  the  frozen  clime, 
In  shriveled  fields  and  ruined  woods  to  dwell, 

And  on  the  flood's  black  swell ; 
But  us  the  rude  transformer  could  not  change  ; 
We  saw  his  pale  dominions  gleam  afar, 
His  keen  skies  flash  with  many  a  friendlier 

star, 

And,  lo,  the  vision  strange  — 
Dear  to  our  faith  —  far  in  the  alien  north, 
With  faltering  hues  and  faint,  a  dream  of  morn 
stole  forth. 

xm. 

Such  presages  before  us  ever  went, 

And  flushed  the  skies  with  joyful  heraldings  ; 
We  trusted  beauty  —  't  is  the  element 

Wherein  the  soul  unfolds  her  poising  wings, 

And  heavenward  soars,  and  sings  ; 
But  in  the  dawn  and  by  the  star-swept  tides, 
In  dim  melodious  aisles  of  lonely  pines, 
We  felt  the  heart  of  sorrow  none  divines,  s 

That  in  all  things  abides ; 
And  borne  on  sighing  winds  came  sounds  of 

woe, 

Whose  burden  well  we  knew,  but  he  feared  not  to 
know. 


14      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

XIV. 
I  saw  the  beauty  of  the  early  world 

More  lovely  imaged  in  his  lucid  mind ; 
Pure  at  his  heart  of  innocence  impearled 
Shone  the  white  truth  no  search  can  ever  find, 

In  love,  as  light,  enshrined  ; 
Him  nature  folded  childlike  to  her  breast, 
Gave  him  her  peace,  her  strength,  her  ease, 

her  joy ; 
Fate  could  not  move  him,  doubt  could  not 

annoy, 

Nor  sorrow,  all  men's  guest ; 
And  woven  of  her  music  fell  his  voice 
On  the  wide-glimmering  eve,  and  bade  my  soul 
rejoice. 

xv. 

"  Ere  yet  we  knew  Love's  name,"  he  said  to  me, 
"  He  gave  the  new  earth  to  our  boyish  hands ; 
For  us  morn  blossoms,  and  the  azure  sea 
Ruffles  and  smooths  his  long  and  gleaming 

sands 

Upon  a  hundred  strands  ; 
In  green  and  gold  the  radiant  mist  exhales, 
When  through   the  willow    buds    the    blue 

March  blows, 
And  sowing  Persia  through  the  world  the  rose 

Reddens  our  western  vales  : 
Clasped  with  the  light,  bathed  with  the  glowing 

air, 

Rest  we  in  his  embrace  who  made  our  paths  so 
fair! 


THE  NORTH  8HORE  WATCH      15 

XVI. 
"  Why  fear  we  ?  wherefore  doubt  ?  is  Love  not 

strong, 
Whose  starry  shield  o'er-roofs  our  mortal 

way, 

Who  makes  his  home  within  our  hearts  lifelong, 
An  instinct  to  divine,  a  law  to  sway, 

A  hero's  faith  to  stay  ? 
See,  all  life  beats  responsive  to  his  might ; 
Its  yearning  in  his  tameless  hope  began ; 
Its  dawning  triumph  in  the  heart  of  man 

Is  his  far-beaconing  light ; 
He  builds  the  empire  of  the  golden  years ; 
The  red  strife,  too,  is  his,  the  field  of  blood  and 
tears. 

XVII. 

"  Through  Him  we  look  toward  life  with  con 
quering  eyes, 
Nor  swerve,  nor  falter,  though  his  fire  must 

blend 

With  our  young  hearts  as  flame  with  sacrifice, 
Consuming  all  we  are  for  that  great  end 

He  bids  our  souls  befriend ; 
The  laws  invincible  of  his  firm  state 

Work  with  us  till  the  vision  grows  the  fact, 
And  thought,  slow-suppling  into  perfect  act, 

Makes  our  desire  our  fate  ; 
Nor  elsewise  unto  truth  may  man  attain, 
Though  built  in  Shelley's  heart,  though  orbed  in 
Shakespeare's  brain. 


16      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

xvin. 
"  His  are  we,  as  we  were  before  we  saw 

The  murder-strife  that  ravin  cannot  sate, 
The   fierce,   incessant  moan,   the   strokes   of 

law, 
The  deep  betrayal  of  our  birth  and  state 

That  baffles  us  with  fate  ; 
Be  life's  inevitable  sadness  ours, 

The  evil  that  we  cannot  help  but  will, 
The  good  with  viewless  consequence  in  ill, 

Our  maimed  and  thwarted  powers ! 
Nor    yet "  —  I    hear    him    say  —  "  repining 

know, 

The  shadow-clouded  earth  through  the  blue  deep 
must  go. 

XIX. 

"  It  moves,  and  plunges  to  the  central  sun, 

Its  paltry  ruin  flashes,  and  is  gone  ; 
The  stars,  indifferent,  their  calm  courses  run, 
The  constellations  shine  as  erst  they  shone, 

The  clustered  heavens  go  on  ; 
Who  shall  foresee  of  all  the  one  bliud  doom 
When  darkness  shall  inhabit  torpid  space, 
Still,  starless,  orphaned   of    dawn's    lovely 

face, 

Unfathomable  tomb !  — 
Yet  may  the  soul  pitch  her  adventure  high, 
With  beauty  and  with  love  impassioned,  though 
we  die. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      17 
XX. 

"  Beauty  that  sings  of  unisons  unseen, 

Bright  emanation  of  consenting  laws, 
In  flower,  wave,  shell,  blue  skies,  and  pastures 

green, 
The   passing   of  the   power   that  hath  no 

pause, 

That  knows  nor  fate  nor  cause  ; 
The  thrill  of  life  aye  pulsing  through  the  void, 
With  rhythmic  motions  felt  in  sun  and  star, 
And  galaxies  of  splendor  streaming  far, 

Nor  in  their  woe  destroyed ; 
The  presence  wonderful,  beneath,  above  — 
In  the  lone  heart  of   man  it  wakes,  incarnate 
Love. 

XXI. 

"  It  hallows  all,  the  aureole  He  wears 

Whom  frail  mortality  hath  never  bound  ; 
Who  in  his  hands  the  burning  sphere  upbears, 
Though  stars  grow  gray,  their  dateless  ruin 

found, 

And  perish  in  their  round  ; 
He  is  —  and,  lo,  't  is  loveliness  we  see, 

The  heavens  majestic,  and  the  joyous  earth  ; 
Is  not  —  and  all  the  glory  and  the  mirth 

Are  things  of  memory  ; 
Long,  long  o'er  us  be  his  divine  control  — 
The   beauty   of   the  world,  the  rapture   of   the 
soul !  " 


18      THE  KORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

xxn. 

Such  musings  ours  upon  the  moonlit  shore, 
WLae  dark  with  motion  sways  the  luminous 

tide; 
On  come  the  long,  black  waves,  and,  whitening 

o'er, 
Fall,  far-resounding,  eddy,  and  divide, 

And  up  the  smooth  sands  glide : 
So,  life-engirdling,  shone  eternal  truth, 
So  darkly  luminous,  so  swift,  so  strong, 
Flooding  our  mortal  brink,  it  broke  along 

The  winding  shores  of  youth ; 
There  silent,  glad,  in  Love's  repose  we  lay  — 
Calm  was  among  the  stars,  peace  on  the  heaving 
bay. 

XXIII. 

Oh,  wherefore  could  we  not  forever  dwell 
In  that  seclusion  of  the  world  new-born, 
Where  on  our  passive  youth  the  promise  fell 
That  dawns  beneath  the  sweet  brows  of  the 

morn, 

The  light  none  lives  to  scorn  ! 
Too  soon  we  left  the  haunts  of  boyish  thought ; 
Moored  swung  the  boat  beside  the  shining 

sea; 
The  arethusas  flowered  in  secrecy, 

And  fell,  unloved,  unsought ; 
Lone  the  rare  cardinal,  autumn's  herald,  stood  ; 
The  bittersweet  gleamed  red  in  the  deserted  wood. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE    WATCH  19 

XXIV. 
One  watch  was  ours  ;  far  o'er  the  elMng  sea, 

Heavy  and  dark,  the  rainy  shadows  lay ; 
From  his  familiar  door  he  walked  with  me 
.  To  that  broad  hill,  grown  dear  in  boyhood's 

day, 

The  old  field-trodden  way  ; 
Chill  rose  the  mists,  and  faint  the  distant  roar 
Of  ocean  sounded ;  our  old  seat  we  took 
Silent  and  sad ;  cold  autumn's  dying  look 

The  summer  landscape  wore  ; 
We  minded  not  —  in  our  hearts  shadows  were 
The  wide  earth  harbors  not,  housing  their  misery 
there. 

xxv. 

The  Hour  sprang  forth  from  universal  time, 
Of  his  joy-hearted  race  the  last  sad  Hour  ; 
Crowned  heir  of  all  his  brothers  of  the  prime, 
Bodied  more  nobly,  girt  with  secret  power, 

Starred  with  Love's  passion  flower  ;. 
Through  night  he  sprang,  and  black  the  flakes 

of  gloom 

Fled,  afar  off,  the  lustre  of  his  feet ; 
Our  hill  he  sought,  and  made  the  darkness 

sweet, 

Staying  the  wand  of  doom ; 
And  dear  as  from  the  Grail's  all-precious  sight, 
Grace  from  his  presence  flowed,  and  fell  on  us 
as  light. 


20  THE  NORTH  SHORE    WATCH 

XXVI. 
We  seemed  to  live  within  the  soul  alone 

Of  sorrow's  silent  love  the  loftier  mood ; 
The  spirit,  vibrant  to  love's  perfect  tone, 
Sang  love  that  was,  more  subtly  understood, 

In  love  to  be,  renewed ; 
And  was  death  hovering  there,  with  shades  of 

woe, 

Round  that  dear  head  the  sullen  frosts  con 
fine?  — 
Dear  hands,  dear  lips,  dear  eyes,   I  knew 

thee  mine, 

Mine,  mine,  where'er  I  go ! 
The  Hour  was  dead ;  we  rose,  we  took  our 

ways, 
Forever  lost  to  sight  through  all  the  exiled  days. 

xxvn. 
O  Song,  move  softly  through  the  laureled  lyre, 

0  melancholy  music  breathing  woe ; 
With  strains  that  trembling  loose  love's  wild 

desire, 
And  waft  it  to  its  peace,  through  sorrow  go, 

With  ocean  pauses,  slow  ! 
Strike  nobler  notes,  O  laden  as  thou  art, 
That  die  not  on  the  ear  with  dying  tones ; 
Oh,  touch  the  finer  chords  man's  nature  owns 

To  ease  the  breaking  heart ; 
And  harmonies  that  of  the  soul  partake, 
Heard  in  the  days  of  joy,  in  evil  days  awake ! 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      21 

XXVIII. 
Heavy  is  exile  wheresoe'er  it  be  ! 

Or  where  his  armored  ship's  strong  bows 

divide 
Green,  empty  hollows  of  the  Afric  sea, 

Or  where  my  broad-browed  prairies,  wester 
ing  wide, 

A  race  of  men  abide  ; 
And  life  in  exile  is  a  thing  of  fears, 
A  song  bereaved  of  music,  a  delight 
That  sorrow's  tooth  doth  feast  on,  day  and 

night, 

A  hope  dissolved  in  tears, 
A  poem  in  the  dying  spirit  —  aught 
Lost  to  its  use  and  beauty,  desolate,  idle,  naught ! 

XXIX. 

Heavy  is  exile  wheresoe'er  it  be  ! 

To  miss  the  sense  of  love  from  out  the  days ; 
To  wake,  and  work,  and  tire,  nor  ever  see 
Love's   glowing   eyes  suffused  with  tender 

rays  — 

Darling  of  human  praise  ! 
To  lose  Love's  ministry  from  out  our  life, 
Nor    gentle    labor    know    for    dear    ones 

wrought, 
When  once  Love  lorded  the  thronged  ways  of 

thought, 

And  quelled  the  harsh  world  strife  ; 
To  feel  the  hungering  spirit  slowly  stilled, 
While  hours  and  months  and  years  the  barren 
seasons  build. 


22      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 
XXX. 

Ever  to  watch,  like  an  unfriended  guest, 
The  sun  rise  up  and  lead  the  days  through 

heaven, 

The  silent  days,  on  to  the  flaming  west, 
The  unrecorded  days,  to  darkness  given, 

Unloved,  unwept,  unshriven : 
With  our  great  mother,  Earth,  to  live  alone ; 
To  clasp  in  silence  Wisdom's  moveless  knees ; 
To  fix  dumb  eyes,  that  know  fate's  whelm 
ing  seas, 

On  her  eternal  throne  ; 

While  better  seems  it,  were  the  soul  sunk  deep 
In  life's  death-mantled  pool,  sealed  in  oblivious 
sleep ! 

XXXI. 

"  Alas,"  I  cried,  beneath  the  sun-bright  sky, 
"  What  profits   it   to   search  what  Athens 

says  — 
To  heap  a  little  learning  ere  we  die, 

Blind  pilgrims,   walk  the  world's  deserted 

ways, 

And  lose  the  living  days ; 
To  cheat  sad  memory's  self  with  storied  woes ; 
To  summon  up  sweet  visions  out  of  books 
Wherein   old   poets   have   enshrined   love's 

looks ; 

To  seek  in  pain  repose  ; 
Oh,  cup  of  bitterness  he  too  must  taste, 
Shut  in   his   homeless  ship  upon  the  salt  sea- 
waste  !  " 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      23 

XXXII. 
What  though  o'er  him  the  tropic  sunset  bloom, 

With  hyacinthine  hues  and  sanguine  dyes, 
And  down  the  central  deep's  prof oundest  gloom 
Soft  blossoms,  fallen  from  the  wreathed  skies, 

The  seas  imparadise  ? 

With  light  immingling,  colors,  dipped  in  May, 
Through    multitudinous    changes    still    en 
dure  — 
Orange  and  unimagined  emeralds  pure 

Drift  through  the  softened  day  ; 
"  Alas,"  he  whispers,  "  and  art  thou  not  nigh  ? 
Earth  reaches  now  her  height  of  beauty  ere  I 
die." 

XXXIII. 

And  I  give  answer,  —  "  Would  that  he  were 

here  ! 

Three  halos,  crescent-horned,  of  purest  grain, 
In  shadowless  keen  ether  burning  clear, 

In  morn's  blue  eastern  depths,  a  glory,  reign 

Burn  brighter,  burn,  and  wane  ; 
Never  to  us,"  I  whisper,  "  by  that  strand 
Stepped  morn,  so  diademed  upon  the  sea ; 
Sweet  wanderer,  joyous  shall  thy  roaming  be 

Across  this  wind-swept  land  ! 
Urge  on  thy  western  flight  and  die  in  bliss  ! 
On   those   unsheltered  waves  his   temples  didst 
thou  kiss." 


24  THE  NORTH  SHORE    WATCH 

XXXIV. 

Brief  now  his  voyaging  is  o'er  those  far  seas, 
By  shoal   and   reef   that  the  lost  mariner 

mock, 
By  lands   of  palm   that  nurse   the  poisoned 

breeze, 
And  pillared  isles  whose  foam-girt  bases  rock 

With  the  tornado's  shock ; 
The  branding  suns  smite  down  on  glassy  waves ; 
They  sink  ;  on  high  strange  stars  malignant 

roll, 
The  regents  of  the  pale,  untraveled  pole, 

Whose  coasts  no  mortal  braves : 
Why  will  he   on  ?  —  Come  back,  O  bleeding 

heart ! 

O  stricken  soul,  return !     Death  hunteth  where 
them  art. 

XXXV. 

Eager  as  sea-birds  from  their  bonds  set  free, 

He  sought  the  ancient  harbors  of  his  home ; 
The  Southern  Cross  fell  in  the  frozen  sea, 
And  stars  of  gladness,  washed  in  northern 

foam, 

His  boyhood  heavens  upclomb ; 
Once  more  beneath  the  tender  spring  he  drinks 
The   fountains   of  his  youth  for  which  he 

yearned ; 
The  beauty  of  the  shore,  like  love  returned, 

Deep  in  his  spirit  sinks  ; 
The  violets  linger,  wide  the  laurels  bloom  — 
Alas,  the  flowering  earth  is  his  eternal  tomb ! 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      25 

XXXVI. 
Moan,  melancholy  Ocean,  he  is  dead 

In  whom  thou  hadst  thy  life,  thy  throbbing 

j°y! 

Our  woe,  0  melancholy  Ocean,  shed 

In  music  round  thy  ever-strangered  boy, 

Whom  the  blind  deeps  destroy  ! 
Waken,  dark  pines  !  that  ruinous  eclipse 

Hath   broke  the  tender  league   of   musing 

youth, 
And  shut  love's  insights  and  the  hopes  of 

truth 

Within  his  parted  lips  : 

I  take,  ay  me,  no  welcome  from  his  hands  — 
He  comes  not  through  the  wood,  nor  down  the 
shadowy  sands. 

xxx  vn. 
From  him  the  lone  sun  doth  withhold  his  light ; 

To  him  lorn  eve  her  western  star  denies  ; 
But  oh,  a  lovelier  world  hath  sunk  in  night, 
Its    music-breathing    fields,    its    dreaming 

skies, 

Dark  in  his  darkened  eyes  ; 
The  rapturous  element  is  still,  in  him, 
And  all  of  nature  that  can  perish,  dead  ; 
Oblivion  gathers  o'er  his  obscure  head  ; 

Death  binds  him,  face  and  limb  ; 
Earth-sundered  soul,  no  beauty  now  he  knows, 
Nor  sense   nor  act  of   love   sweetens  his    long 
repose. 


26      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

XXXVIII. 
On  crag  and  beach  I  hear  his  threnody  ; 

I    touch   the   myrtles    clinging   round    his 

grave ; 

But  weak  is  all  that  severs  him  from  me, 
Faint  and  far  off,  although  my  heart  will 

crave 

The  old  response  he  gave ; 
No,  not  the  moaning  waves  nor  sighing  pines 
Persuade   my   soul    of   loss,    nor    blinding 

tears  — 
I  love  him,  I  shall  love  through  lonely  years, 

Where'er  my  life  declines  ; 
I  lean  my  head  down  to  the  flowerless  sod  — 
I  feel  his  shepherding  as  when  on  earth  he  trod. 

XXXLX. 

Mortality  sways  not,  while  heaven  shall  last, 
The  starry  years  that  were  when  he  was 

mine  ; 
Death  blots  not  out  a  fair-recorded  past, 

Whose  meanings  deeper  are  than  men  divine, 

Who  write  it,  line  by  line ; 
The  years  of  noble  life  are  pledges  deep, 
That  bind  futurity  our  souls  to  friend  ; 
Woe  cannot  cancel  them,  nor  far  time  end 

The  privilege  they  keep  ; 
They  live  —  their  light  still  blessed  where  it 

leads, 

Their  hoarded  music  loosed,  pure  song,  in  perfect 
deeds. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH      27 

XL. 

Yea,  he  to  whom  Love  was  as  God  is  dead ; 
Cold,    mute,    and    dark,   he    unresponsive 

lies ; 

A  joyless  form,  the  kindling  presence  fled, 
The  spirit  faded  from  his  wistful  eyes  ; 

No  more  will  he  arise  ! 
Yet  not  in  vain  was  our  adoring  trust, 
Our  deep-vowed  fealty,  our  service  done  ; 
To  finer  issues  love  that  was  lives  on, 

Nor  moulders  into  dust : 
Of  Love,  the  Giver,  still  my  song  must  be, 
The  Victor,  Love,  repeat,  whose  grace  descends 
on  me. 

XLI. 

Love  blends  with  mine  the  spirit  I  deplore, 
Like   music   in   sweet  verse   that  lasts  for 

aye; 

While  yet  we  wandered  by  our  native  shore, 
He  sent  the  blessings  for  which  all  men  pray, 

That  cannot  pass  away  ; 

He  wrought  with  ministries  of  star  and  flower 
And  the  gray  sea,  to  build  our  lives  secure  ; 
He  made  the  sources  of  the  spirit  pure, 

And  with  truth  lent  us  power  ; 
And  him  to  me  He  gave  —  and  lo,  his  gift 
Is  changeless,  and  doth  now  my  soul  from  death 
uplift. 


28  THE  NORTH  SHORE   WATCH 

XLII. 

On  deepest  night  arisen,  the  morning  star 
Trembles  across  the  wide,  unquiet  sea, 
And  heavenward  springs,  with  influence  felt 

afar  — 
The  world's  new  hope  he  leads,  the  day  to  be, 

The  life  that  waits  for  me  ; 
Speed  on,  glad  star,  and  golden  be  thy  flight, 
Inviolable,  serene,  the  waters  o'er  ! 
Fear  not  the  eclipsing  west,  0  born  to  soar, 

And,  dying,  die  in  light ! 
Bring,  bring  the  morning  with   her  tides  of 

song, 

Her  floods  of  amber  air,  breaking  earth's  heights 
along. 

XLHI. 

Beauty  abides,  nor  suffers  mortal  change, 
Eternal  refuge  of  the  orphaned  mind  ; 
Where'er  a  lonely  wanderer,  I  range, 

The  tender  flowers  shall  my  woes  unbind, 

The  grass  to  me  be  kind  ; 
And  lovely  shapes  innumerable  shall  throng 
On  sea  and  prairie,  soft  as  children's  eyes  ; 
Morn  shall  awake   me  with  her  glad  sur 
prise  ; 

The  stars  shall  hear  my  song ; 
And  heaven  shall  I  see,  whate'er  my  road, 
Steadfast,  eternal,  light's  impregnable  abode. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE   WATCH  29 

XLIV. 

Love,  too,  abides,  and  smiles  at  savage  death, 
And  swifter  speeds  his  might  and  shall  en 
dure  ; 

The  secret  flame,  the  unimagined  breath, 
That  lives  in  all  things  beautiful  and  pure, 

Invincibly  secure  ; 

In  Him  creation  hath  its  glorious  birth, 
Subsists,  rejoices,  moves  prophetic  on, 
Till  that  dim  goal  of  all  things  shall  be  won 

Men  yearn  for  through  the  earth ; 
Voices  that  pass  we  are  of  Him,  the  Song, 
Whose  harmonies  the  winds,  the  stars,  the  seas, 
prolong. 

XLV. 

Break,  surging  sea,  about  the  lovely  shore  ! 
O  dimly  heaving  plains,   through  darkness 

sweep ! 
Thy  restless  waves,  with  morning  stars  roofed 

o'er, 
Their  incommunicable  secret  keep, 

Impenetrable  deep ! 

The  eldest  years  on  time's  oblivious  verge 
Saw  thee  through  tempest-weltering  night 

uplift 
Great,   mountainous    continents    amid    thy 

drift, 

And  their  tall  peaks  submerge  ; 
The  vast,  abysmal,  wandering  fields  moved  on, 
Whelming  the  wasteful  wreck  of  the  old  world 
undone. 


30      THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

XLVT. 

And  still  round  mortal  shores  thy  billows  roll, 
And  shall  through  long,  long  ages  yet  un 

born; 

Lone  splendor  of  the  sense-illumined  soul, 
Eternal  moaning  of  the  spirit  lorn, 

By  strokes  of  loss  outworn  ; 
Thy  terrors  image  our  blind  mortal  state, 
Dark  with  impending  doom  and  whirling 

woe, 
And  monsters  in  thy  bosom  come  and  go, 

And  death  is  thy  fell  mate  ; 
Ah  yet,  through  sun  and  storm,  gray  ocean,  roll, 
Love   clasps   thy  mighty  tides  in  his  profound 
control. 


Surge  on,  thy  melancholy  is  not  doom  ! 

Surge,  O  wan  sea,  into  the  golden  day  ! 
The  mom  is  breathing  off  thy  purple  gloom, 
The  isles  lift  up  their  promise,  dim  and  gray, 

Love  holds  his  dauntless  sway  ! 
Thy  ripples  kiss  the  shore  with  lips  of  foam, 
Thy  waves  are  dawning  soft  —  the  winds 

blow  free  ! 
Keep  thou  the  eternal  watch,  O  dear,  dear 

sea, 

Those  far  lands  I  must  roam  ! 
Lo,  't  is  the  sunrise  —  and  the  sphered  stars 

move, 

Singing  unseen,  like  silent  thoughts  through  si 
lent  love. 


AGATHON 


THE  CHARACTERS. 

EROS,  the  god  of  Desire. 

DIOTIMA,  the  prophetess  of  Mantineia. 

AOATHON,  the  poet, 

PHANTASM. 

URANIA,  unseen. 


AGATHON 


SCENE  I. 
Before  DIOTIMA'S  cave.    EROS  enters. 

EROS. 

Between  the  gods  who  live  and  mortal  men 
I  am  the  Intercessor,  Eros  called, 
Fathered  in  heaven,  but  earth  did  mother  me ; 
Whence  is  my  nature  mixed  of  opposites, 
Unquenchable  desire,  want  absolute, 
And  is  near  neighbor  unto  human  fate. 
The  edict  of  Necessity  besides 
Bids  own  that  kinship  ;  for  I  come  not  home 
Except  my  errand  done,  which  ever  is 
To  break  the  mystery  of  love  to  men, 
Freeing  themselves  and  me :  not  without  me 
Find   they   the   Immortals;    without   them    my 

wings 

Blade  not,  nor  from  the  gleaming  shoulder  break, 
But  by  the  warmth   of   love  those  plumes  un 
sheathe  ; 

Wherefore  I  ever  speed  to  win  men's  hearts. 
I  bear  the  gifts  of  all  the  gods  to  men ; 
The  bright  Promethean  fire  burns  from  my  hand, 


84  AGATHON 

And  from  it  falls  Demeter's  holy  corn ; 

Poseidon's  horse,  Athene's  olive-tree, 

The  plough,  the  ship,  the  sceptre,  and  the  lyre 

I  give,  and  only  from  my  favor  live 

All  art  and  use  and  ornament  of  life ; 

And  whom  I  meet,  with  whatsoever  gift 

He  wills  in  his  desire  I  charge  his  heart. 

The  most,  low-eyed  and  basely  covetous, 

Scramble  in  shameful  packs  for  Plutus'  hoard, 

To  gild  their  bosoms  with  a  little  gold, 

But  leave  unfurnished  all  that  lies  within  ; 

And  those  who  flaunt  them  in  a  purple  cloak, 

And  on  bright  honor  fasten  greedy  eyes, 

Are  like  unmindful  what  they  most  should  mind. 

The  king  who  wolfs  it  in  the  precious  flock 

Forgets  the  heavenly  leasing  of  his  throne  ; 

The  warrior  flaming  in  his  woundless  arms 

Forgets  their  forging  in  the  fiery  mount ; 

The  victor  whose  green  leaves  o'erprize  his  brows 

Forgets  the  sacred  tree  they  budded  on  ; 

Oblivious,  the  crammed  steward,  of  his  lord ; 

The  artist,  of  the  beam  whence  Iris  glows ; 

The  sculptor,  of  the  form  within  the  stone ; 

The  poet,  of  the  very  breath  he  draws ; 

Users  of  heavenly  trust,  unmindful  all. 

They  waste   my  gifts  ;  I   gave  them   not  from 

earth 

To  nourish  life  alone,  but  from  the  gods 
Who  fashioned  them  to  foster  the  young  soul 
In  reverence,  gratitude,  and  humbleness. 


AGATHON  35 

Yet  some,  whose  eyes  were  more  divinely  touched 
In  that  long-memoried  world  whence  souls  set 

forth, 

Discern  the  holy  meaning  of  the  gift, 
Which  who  receives  aright  receives  the  god. 
The  rest  esteem  it  as  a  thing  their  own 
And  common,  and  neglect  to  know  the  gods ; 
And  me,  their  messenger,  they  thrust  without ; 
And  here  I  wander  in  the  ways  of  men, 
Hungry  and  poor,  and  begging  for  my  bread ; 
And  oft  my  feet  print  blood  what  time  I  leave 
Inhospitable,  hard,  and  kindless  doors. 
But  where  some  noble  soul  makes  his  abode, 
And  bids  me  enter  in  and  lodge  with  him, 
Beautiful  am  I  as  the  gods  in  heaven ; 
His  thatch,  though  lowly,  unto  them  is  known, 
The  rushes  of  his  floor  are  loved  of  men, 
And  who  live  there  behold  me  as  I  am. 
One  such  I  seek  for  now,  the  flower  of  Greece, 
Young  Agathon  ;  to  men  hereafter  known 
(If  I  but  thrive  as  I  have  hope  to  do) 
More  than  her  athlete's  olive-cinctured  brows, 
Wrestler,  or  runner,  or  swift  charioteer, 
His  cherished  name  endears  her  memory. 
A  spirit  of  joy  he  is,  to  beauty  vowed, 
Made  to  be  loved,  and  every  sluggish  sense 
In  him  is  amorous  and  passionate. 
Whence  danger  is  ;  therefore  I  seek  him  out, 
So  with  pure  thought  and  awe  of  things  divine 
To  touch  his  soul  that  he  partake  the  gods. 


36  AOATHON 

Now  here  he  comes  with  that  wise  prophetess 
Who  reared  his  youthful  wisdom  ;  I,  awhile, 
Will  stand  and  mark  them ;  sweet  is  their  dis 
course. 

[EROS  retires. 

DIOTIHA  and  AGATHON  enter,  and  seat  themselves  near  the 


DIOTIMA. 

What  robs  thee,  Agathon,  of  thy  delight, 
That  thou  art  fallen  in  grave  and  silent  ways, 
Nor  longer  wilt  divide  thy  breast  with  me  ? 

AOATHON. 
I  would  obey  the  gods,  but  see  not  how. 

DIOTIMA, 

Hast  thou  forgotten  ?     But  youth  ever  fears, 
And,  like  the  fledgeling  on  the  low  nest's  edge, 
Thinks  not  how  instant  heaven  receives  its  wings 
And  bears  them  up  unseen.     The  reed  once  knew 
Thy  boyish  warble  ;  long  the  lyre  expects 
When  thou  shall  touch  Apollo's  waiting  strings, 
Thy  name  be  golden  on  the  lips  of  men. 
Not  idly  do  the  gods  bestow  their  gifts. 

AGATHON. 

Long  silent  hangs  the  lyre,  silent  my  heart. 
I  cannot  sing ;  I  am  too  much  betrayed 
By  this  too  fickle  world  that  robbeth  me. 
Beauty  herself  hath  fed  me  on  despair ; 


AGATHON  37 

And  the  deep  change  which  doth  infect  all  things 
Lessons  the  soul  in  death,  by  her  eyes  taught 
More  than  by  gross  decay.     Change,  change  is 

here  ! 

Still  seems  the  region  as  the  land  I  loved  — 
Seems,  but  is   not;    something  hath   fallen  be 
tween, 

Strangeness  and  severance  that  the  exile  feels 
Returning  to  his  haunts  from  roving  years  ; 
No  stay  for  him  is  there  ;  he  turns  and  goes  ; 
For  he  has  robbed  his  father's  quiet  fields 
Of  nature's  sweet  horizons  ;  nevermore 
The  sky  shall  rest  upon  the  hills  for  him  ; 
His  bounds  are  of  the  soul ;  his  rims  of  heaven 
The  visions  which  his  wayward  eyes  have  caught ; 
And   what  that   gleam   hath  whispered   to   his 

heart, 

He  cannot  all  forget.     This  have  I  learned 
From  the  revolving  hours,  and  fear  it  much, 
And  hide  it  in  my  breast,  as  wise  men  do, 
Lest  truth  should  prove  contagion  to  the  world. 
Woe  be  to  us,  to  us  alone  the  woe  ! 
The  solitude  in  loveliest  places  felt, 
The  heart  estranged  from  earth,  but  undivine, 
The  soul  aware  of  that  which  heaven  withholds  — 
Poets  whose  eyes  the  goddess  lights  and  blinds 
To  be  than  mortals  more,  but  less  than  gods ! 

DlOTIMA. 

Hath  beauty  so  bereaved  thee,  nor  love  crowned  ? 


88  AGATBON 

AQATHON. 

Thou  knowest  it,  because  them  smilest  so  ; 
Yet  pity  in  that  smile  confession  makes 
Of  thoughts  not  unacquainted  with  my  own. 
I  do  remember  't  was  on  such  a  night 
As  spreads  this  silver  silence  on  the  earth 
On  the  sea-cape  I  watched  the  brooding  wave ; 
Only  the  moon  my  meditation  shared, 
Nor  any  sound  save  of  the  voiceful  deep 
Among  the  white  crags  of  my  solitude ; 
I  saw  its  loveliness,  and  sighed  to  see  ; 
And  stretching  out  my  palms  to  the  bright  air, 
"  Wherefore  art  thou  so  beautiful,  my  life  ?  " 
I  cried ;  and  knew  in  heaven  a  subtle  change, 
Celestial  fading,  and  the  pale  approach 
Of  morning  in  the  east ;  and  all  my  thoughts 
Fled  thence,  as  from  the  gray  dawn  fled   the 

stars. 

The  time  was  disenchanted,  not  my  soul ; 
And   oft  on   some   clear  height,  some   curving 

shore, 

From  beauty's  momentary  trance  I  woke 
As  from  another  world ;  flown  was  the  light 
That  wooed  me  to  such  sweet  oblivion, 
But  not  from  memory  flown  ;  still  must  I  mourn 
That  every  lovely  thing  escapes  the  heart 
Even  in  the  moment  of  its  cherishing. 
O  young  regret  that  still  will  turn  desire ! 
For    Nature   wounds    and   orphans   while    she 

charms 


AGATHON  39 

Her  dearest  lover  ;  no  perfection  hers, 

And  no  continuance  ;  change,  forever  change  ! 

Stars  shine  where  morning  was,  morn  dims  the 

stars ; 

Spring  follows  spring,  and  all  our  autumns  roll 
Morrow  on  morrow  mourning  yesterday  ; 
So  mutable  is  this  dissolving  sphere ; 
Aloft  and  under  —  change,  forever  change  ! 
And  we  like  sailors  on  the  inconstant  deep  — 
The  moon-driven  rack,  the  rout  of   wind-swept 

waves, 
Are  earth  and   heaven ;  the  whole  world   slips 

below. 

DIOTIMA. 

Truth  is  not  given  as  pearls,  my  Agathon. 
There  is  a  light  within,  and  that  must  shine 
Before  the  soul  can  see  ;  o'er  Nature's  world, 
The  flux  and  all  the  ruin  of  her  sway, 
Is  the  eternal ;  there  the  gods  abide. 

AGATHON. 

The  gods  are  hard  to  seek,  but  sure  they  are. 
I  have  not  yet  my  boyhood  so  unlearned 
But  with  my  soul  I  keep  some  privacy ; 
Such  as  each  spirit  owns  what  time  it  wakes 
And  broods  and  ponders  on  what  things  must  be 
To  match  its  nature;  then  what  thoughts  were 

mine ! 

Desire  and  dream  were  undissevered  then ! 
I  rode  the  dark-ribbed  waves,  Poseidon's  son ; 


40  AGATHON 

The  ample  ether  kissed  me,  sprung  from  Zeus ; 
Apollo  wrapt  me  in  his  golden  beams 
Like  some  proud  elder  brother  ;  as  a  star 
Upon  the  unregarded  edge  of  heaven 
Knows  not  his  brethren  of  the  crowded  host, 
Before  their  beauty  timorous,  yet  feels 
His  isolate  nature  one  with  theirs  divine, 
So  my  young  spirit  felt  beyond  the  sense 
Something  at  one  with  it  that  made  the  world 
Its  shining  element  —  oh,  wherefore  bright 
Unless  the  gods,  making  such  glad  proclaim, 
Would  break  their  secrecy  with  Nature's  tongues, 
And  unprofaned  do  borrow  of  the  soul 
Some  sweet  forewarnings  ?  —  upon  this  I  mused, 
"When  morning  flashed  on  great  Athene's  spear, 
Pacing  within  her  temple.     On  one  hand 
The    violet    landscape      through    the    columns 

glowed  — 

JEgina.  and  the  olive-coasted  gulf 
Empurpling  to  the  far  Corinthian  gleam ; 
Ilissus  reed-beloved  ;  Hymettus  flowering  ; 
On  white  Pentelicus  the  cloud-hung  pines  ! 
At  every  step  more  fair  with  lovelier  change 
The   scene   passed   by,  in  those  white  columns 

framed, 

Porches  of  heaven ;  upon  the  other  side 
Was  I  o'ershadowed  by  the  eternal  frieze, 
That  only  seemed  to  move,  but  ever  stayed, 
Horsemen  and  maidens  in  the  marble  march, 
Athene's  people,  bearing  evermore 


AGATHON  41 

Praise  to  Athene ;  beautiful  they  stood 
Before  her  coming,  mixed  with  forms  divine  — 
Men  worthy  to  be  gods,  gods  to  be  men ; 
And  waking  from  my  trance,  I  saw  them  shine, 
Nor  knew  the  change  from  the  eternal  world. 

DIOTIMA. 

'T  is  the  god's  doing :  oh,  follow,  follow  there ! 
Create  what  thou  desirest,  Agathon. 
Cling  not  to  Nature ;  of  eternity 
Some  glimpses  live  that  counsel  the  divine 
In  the  brief  shadows  of  this  mortal  being. 
The  light  that  fills  the  temple  thence  proceeds  ; 
And  all  the  Phidian  art  and  mastery 
Is  but  the  spirit  bringing  like  the  gods 
The  light  it  shines  by  ;  only  it  creates 
And  truly  fashions  ;  Nature's  works  decay ; 
It  hath  a  higher  and  immortal  craft ; 
It  is  the  parent  of  eternal  form. 
Not  in  the  sphere  the  song  that  moves  it  sings, 
But  in  the  soul ;  'tis  Nature's  element, 
Her  shaping  principle,  her  other  frame, 
Locking  old  Chaos  in  the  rhyme  of  law  ; 
Its  influence  exceeds  this  sensual  reach ; 
It  doth  invest  the  very  gods  with  charm  ; 
Such  deity  resides  within  the  soul. 
Oh,  wert  thou  Orpheus,  or  the  shepherd  boy 
Apollo  loved  amid  his  Thracian  flocks, 
Thy  lyre  must  from  thyself  bring  harmony, 
Whose  unlocked  music  builds  the  world  divine. 


42  AGATE ON 

AOATHON. 

One  must  be  born  again  to  breathe  that  world. 

DIOTIMA. 

Not  once,  but  many  times  the  soul  is  born 
Before  the  mortal  body  wastes  away 
That  it  inhabits ;  it  is  born  in  sense, 
And  like  a  thing  of  Nature  in  what  is 
Lives  momentary ;  born  in  memory  next, 
In  time's  dark  shadow  and  eclipse  it  builds 
The  insubstantial  world  where  Nature  hath 
Her  only  immortality  ;  nor  long 
Consents  to  tarry  with  that  second  death, 
And  to  eternize  loss  ;  but,  risen  aloft, 
Is  in  imagination  born,  whose  throe 
Is  Nature's  dissolution.     Nature  dies 
In  uttering  the  ideal ;  earth  below 
Is  stubble,  stars  the  refuse  of  the  thought, 
That  works  in  time  and  death,  denying  both 
And   all    the   world    of    change,  and  winnows 

thence 

The  inviolable  and  perfect  element, 
And  sees  the  gods  afar.     But  more  remains, 
This  but  the  darkness  dreaming  in  the  mind 
And  increate  creation  ;  for  the  soul 
Works  not  its  dream ;  yet  through  belief  it  may 
If  it  believe ;  such  premonition  hath 
The  quick  eternal  nature  in  it  lodged  — 
Immortal  travail,  thoughts  that  at  their  birth 
Have  touches  of  necessity,  and  shape 


AGATE  ON  43 

Themselves  the  life  to  come ;  in  faith  't  is  born ; 
In  what  shall  be  it  breathes,  till  that  last  change 
When  it  shall  lay  its  mortal  nature  off, 
In  what  eternal  is,  eternal  live. 

AQATHON. 

Oh,  eloquent  and  noble  as  desire 
Thy  doctrine  is,  charming  as  melody ; 
Beyond  the  reach  of  thought  we  follow  it  — 
Whither,  oh,  whither? 

DlOTUIA. 

Here  repose  thyself 

Upon  the  flinty  rock,  the  dreamer's  couch  ; 
For  oft  in  dreams  the  gods  do  visit  us  — 
Or  what  seem  dreams  —  and  then  we  wake  and 

find 
Only  the  ideal  has  reality. 

[DIOTIMA  enters  the  cave,  AQATHON  sleeps. 

EROS  comes  forward  singing.    AGATHON  wakes. 

When  love  in  the  faint  heart  trembles, 

And  the  eyes  with  tears  are  wet, 
Oh,  tell  me  what  resembles 

Thee,  young  Regret  ? 
Violets  with  dewdrops  drooping, 

Lilies  o'erfull  of  gold, 
Roses  in  June  rains  stooping, 

That  weep  for  the  cold, 
Are  like  thee,  young  Regret. 


44  AGATE  ON 

Bloom,  violets,  lilies  and  roses ! 

But  what,  young  Desire, 
Like  thee,  when  love  discloses 

Thy  heart  of  fire  ? 
The  wild  swan  unreturning, 

The  eagle  alone  with  the  sun, 
The  long-winged  storm-gulls  burning 

Seaward  when  day  is  done, 
Are  like  thee,  young  Desire. 

AOATHON. 

Who  art  thou  that  dost  echo  on  thy  lips 
The    unspoken   heart   that    pains   with    silent 

throb 
And  thoughts  ineffable  the  aching  side  ? 

EROS. 

A  wanderer  who  sings  from  land  to  land  ; 
A  single  night  he  lodges  where  he  sings, 
And  goes  ere  morning.     Subtle  is  the  song 
And  sweet ;  which,  if  thy  heart  shall  entertain, 
'T  is  destiny,  eternal  joy  or  woe. 

AGATHON. 

There  is  a  princely  pleading  in  thy  looks, 
Yet  doth  this  fair-demeanored  courtesy 
Show  with  a  borrowed  favor,  as  if  a  god, 
With  lowly  bending  of  his  attributes 
And  gentle  usage  of  humility, 
Should  be  a  suppliant.     So  Apollo  once 
Among  the  herdsmen  came,  but  godlike  sang. 


AGATEON  45 

EROS. 
A  god  I  am,  though  mortal  now  I  seem. 

AGATHON. 
I  have   heard   tales   of   gods   who   mixed  with 

men 

When  men  were  heroes  and  divinely  sprung ; 
But  whether  by  compulsion  of  strict  fate 
Or  by  corruption  of  our  long  descent, 
The  way  is  lost,  and  scarce  may  Hermes'  self 
Retrace  his  golden  sandals'  gleaming  track 
To  guide  us  hence,  whence  all  the  gods  are  gone. 

EROS. 

Not  gone  from  thee  or  any  mortal  man 
Who  trusts  them,  though  of  pride-emboldened 

eyes 

They  suffer  not  the  near  and  curious  gaze  ; 
But  whom  they  love  they  leave  not  uninspired. 
I  am  their  messenger,  and  joy  I  bring. 
Long  have  I  sought,  and  loved  thee  ere  I  saw ; 
Now  take  my  heart  of  longing  to  thy  breast ; 
Suffer  my  leading :  I  alone  lead  true, 
And  strip  the  ambush  on  the  paths  of  peril, 
And  hedge  the  flowery  way  with  innocence. 
Eros  I  am,  the  wooer  of  men's  hearts. 
Unclasp  thy  lips,  yield  me  thy  close  embrace ; 
So    shall    thy  thoughts   once    more   to   heaven 

climb, 
Their  music  linger  here,  the  joy  of  men. 


46  AGATE ON 

AOATHON. 

Take  my  poor  friending,  such  as  man  may  give 
Whose  only  having  is  a  human  heart ; 
This  be  thy  pillow  and  thy  breast  my  guard, 
Both  loyal  lovers  till  the  world  shall  end  ! 
For  thou  dost  seem  all  mortal,  and  dost  crave 
An  equal  bond ;  and  far  that  journey  lies 
(So  strong  is  prescience  here),  and  long,  alas, 
Hath  that  young  trust  that  was  about  my  heart 
Flown  forth,  the  bird  of  roaming,  through  the 

world  — 

Oft  lost  in  heaven,  oft  fluttering  back  to  earth, 
Builds  in  the  morn  and  nests  in  darkening  waves, 
The  tired  wing  not  vain,  nor  vain  the  song. 
And  now  my  soul  must  follow  after  it, 
Going  with  thee  ;  with  thee  needs  must  I  go  ; 
For  had  one  planet  launched  our  lives  at  birth, 
And  had  one  sun  harnessed  our  golden  days, 
And  one  dear  memory  shrined  our  jewels  up, 
Thou  couldst  not  more  prevail.     Oh,  thou  hast 

ta'en 

My  heart  into  thy  breast ;  my  faith  lies  there, 
And  I  must  follow  ! 

Thy  kisses  make  me  faint, 
And,  tremulously  sweet,  ambrosial  flame 
Steals  in  my  blood,  with  heavenly  vigor  bright. 
Upon  what  stream  shall  this  high  passion  slake  ? 
Not  sun-kissed  wine  that  bursts  the  blooded  grape, 
Cold  Castaly,  nor  any  nectared  draught 
That  whispers  Hebe's  secret,  shall  dull  this  pain, 


AGATHON  47 

Nor  any  dark-leaved  herb  of  melancholy 
Lull  it  to  sleep. 

EROS. 

There  is  a  fount  more  clear 
Than  gave  Narcissus  to  himself,  more  pure 
Than  on  Tiresias  flashed  Athene's  form, 
And  softer  to  the  touch  than  Venus'  bath. 
If  thou  canst  win  unto  that  crystal  brook, 
And  if  but  once  thy  lips  kiss  that  bright  flow, 
Was  never  Beauty's  paragon  more  blessed, 
Nor  Wisdom's  lover  so  by  her  desired, 
Nor  darling  Adon  to  the  goddess  dear. 
While  this  sweet  passion  sorrows  in  thy  breast 
Unto  that  heavenly  fount  thou  'rt  each  day  nigh ; 
There  shalt  thou  learn  the  mystery  of  thyself, 
How  thou  ari  mortal  to  become  a  god. 
But  now  the  night  wears  on,  and  long  the  way. 

AGATHON. 
How  short  a  time  thou  givest  to  my  love  ! 

EROS. 

Nor  long,  nor  short ;  but  when  I  go  from  thee 
The  interval  is  all ;  against  that  hour 
Whisper  thy  heart  into  my  breast  to-night, 
And  I  in  turn  will  treasure  mine  in  thee. 

[They  enter  the  cave  together. 


48  AGATBON 

SCENE  II. 
DIOTIMA'S  cave  within.    AGATHON  and  EROS  enter. 

AGATHOH. 
How  thou  hast   stolen  within   my  heart !  even 

there, 

Sweet  fabler,  fable  on,  with  myth  and  tale 
That  thronged  before  the  eyes  of  poets  gone  ! 
Oh,  only  once  to  breathe  young  Attic  air, 
Cithseron  rove,  or  Ida's    slumber  know, 
A  guiltless  Paris  by  ^Enone's  side ! 
Dream  thou,  my  heart !   for  Love   so  made  our 

frame 

And  shut  his  empire  in  a  maid's  white  arms, 
And  in  a  woman's  kiss  his  sovereignty. 
For  this  Poseidon  hath  his  trident  bowed ; 
For  this  great  Zeus  let  the  leashed  thunder  sleep 
And  the  bird  drowse  beside  the  empty  throne  ; 
For  this   did   Enna  blossom,  and  with   strewn 

spring 

Love's  footprints  bud  in  hell ;  even  but  for  this 
Did  Dian's  self  lay  her  white  bow  aside 
And  still  a  thousand  hymns  of  sanctity  ! 
Love  comes  in  youth,  and  in  the  wakeful  heart 
Delight  begins,  soft  as  Aui'ora's  breath 
Fretting  the  silver  waves,  and  dimly  sweet 
As  stir  of  birds  in  branches  of  the  dawn. 
So  soft,  so  sweet,  thy  touches  round  my  heart. 
Oh,  fable,  fable  on  ! 


AGATHON  49 

EROS. 

I  fable  not, 

But  as  the  sense  is  fashioned  sees  the  mind, 
And  as  the  tongue  is  languaged  hears  the  ear, 
And  as  the  heart  is  chambered  lives  the  soul ; 
Illusion  binds  us  !  [The  scene  darkens. 

Alas,  he  hears  me  not, 
And  by  the  darkening  of  the  way  I  know 
Anteros,  him,  my  brother,  born  with  me, 
Who  will  contest  for  this  most  noble  prize. 
His  bright  enchantment  oft  my  image  steals 
And  silences  my  voice ;  and  power  is  his  ; 
Whatever  loveliness  doth  dwell  in  sense 
Ministers  to  him,  many  gentle  thoughts, 
Fair  shapes,  forever  beautiful  to  man, 
And  dear  with  tenderness  that  touches  most 
Pure   hearts   and   young.      Look    down,  sweet 

heaven,  now, 
And  nearer  bend  thy  light,  and  shine  within ! 

[The  scene  brightens,  disclosing,  as  the  two  advance,  what 
seems  a  lake  under  the  cave's  high-vaulted  rock. 

AGATHON. 

Darkness  itself  doth  change  ;  and  in  my  breast 
Expectancy  doth  like  a  spirit  sit 
And  helms  me  on ;  and  deep  within  my  heart 
Is  such  unrest,  that  sweetens  as  it  grows, 
Excess  makes  nature  faint.     Now  might  I  hear 
The  music  of  the  bright  Sicilian  reef, 
Caught  over  heaving  seas  by  mariners  lost, 


50  AGATflON 

The  sea-child's  harp  of  joy  ;  or  whatso  else 

Is  storied  in  the  tales  of  mortal  love, 

Of  dragon-damsels  in  the  woodland  met, 

Or  river-maidens  in  their  golden  hair. 

The  dark  way  flames ;  the  gross  and  threatening 

rock 

As  the  fair  element  doth  softly  burn 
With  violet  rays,  whose  stealing -lambency 
Subdues  these  awful  ledges  up  aloft, 
Melting  with  darkness  there  ;  and,  isled  below, 
This  chasm  of  radiance,  this  bloom  of  light, 
This  purple  fragment  of  crag-shadowed  seas 
Where   Naiads   slumber !     Grottoes   'neath  the 

wave, 

Where  the  unbodied  spirit  of  the  air 
Laves  his  blue  lustre  in  the  sunless  stream, 
Dissolve  such  hues ;  such  still  ethereal  tints 
Within  their  sapphire  caves  the  glaciers  hush, 
Light's  mountain  hermitage  ;  and,  soft-embarked, 
What  vision  pulses  on  the  brightening  air  ?  — 

[The  PHANTASM  appears  floating  upon  the  lake. 
How  fair  she  lies  within  the  purple  shell, 
Couched  in  the  halo  of  a  golden  mist 
That  drops  its  pale  light  o'er  her  flowing  limbs ! 

The  PHANTASM. 
T  is   sweet   to   roam ;  oh,  sweet  in  breaking 

dawns 

To  speak  with  Light,  the  pilgrim  beautiful ; 
To  hear  and  follow  the  earth's  roaming  soul ! 


AGATHOy  51 

The  winged  winds  forsake  their  craggy  nests ; 
The  singing  birds  take  flight  and  glow  in  air  ; 
The  pale  mists  slip  their  golden  anchorage  ; 
The  white  clouds  lead  them  on  ;  for  all  the  gates 
Of  heaven  stand  open.     Who  would  linger  then  ? 
The  sweetest  roamer  is  a  boy's  young  heart ; 
Sweet  is  his  roaming,  for  his  heart  is  young. 
0  youngest  Roamer,  Hesper  shuts  the  day, 
White  Hesper  folded  in  the  rose  of  eve ; 
The   still  cloud   floats,   and  kissed   by  twilight 

sleeps ; 
The  mists  drop  down,  and  near  the  mountain 

moor ; 
And  mute  the  bird's  throat  swells  with  slumber 

now ; 

And  now  the  wild  winds  to  their  eyries  cling. 
The  youth  divine,  —  where  now  lays  he  his  head  ? 
The  sea  roves  on,  and  rove  the  awful  stars, 
Unalterable  as  when  the  young  gods  woke 
And  alien  gazed  upon  the  mystery 
That  hopes   not  nor  remembers,  with   strange 

eyes; 

And  he,  too,  gazes,  and  his  heart  still  roves. 
Ah,  dark  he  roams  whom  sea  and  stars  waft  on 
To  voyage  and  venture,  and  to  peril  all, 
Still  wandering  with  the  silver-footed  waves, 
Still  coursing  with  the  globes  of  fiery  flight, 
A  mortal  he,  but  they  eternal  are. 
Now  where  for   him   shall   end  the   darkening 

search, 


52  AGATHON 

Whose  feet  are  bound  with  sandals  of  the  dust  ? 
The  waste  desire  be  his,  and  sightless  fate  : 
Him  light  shall  not  revisit ;  late  he  knows 
The  love  that  mates  with  heaven  weds  in  the 

grave. 

O  youngest  Roamer,  wonderful  is  joy, 
The  rose  in  bloom  that  out  of  darkness  springs, 
The  lily  folded  to  the  wave  of  life, 
The  lotus  on  the  stream's  dark  passion  borne ; 
'T  is  hidden  far  from  dawn,  and  shut  from  eve  ; 
The  shore  wave  never  kissed  ;  the  starless  bower  ; 
Ah,  fortunate  he  roams  who  roameth  there, 
Who  finds  the  happy  covert  and  lies  down, 
And  hears  the  laughter  gurgling  in  the  fount, 
And  feels  the  dreamy  light  imbathe  his  limbs. 
No  more  he  roams  ;  he  roams  no  more,  no  more. 

AGATHON. 

How  sweet  a  freight  of  beauty  lieth  here  ! 
And  like  a  god  I  hover  over  it. 
So  Bacchus  hung  where  Ariadne  lay ; 
So  Ariadne  unto  Bacchus'  arms 
Gave  her  white  breasts  with  upward  streaming 

eyes. 

And  me,  though  mortal,  the  swift  flame  devours, 
And  winds  with  sparkles  of  immortal  heat 
In  my  quick  veins,  and  finds  sweet  pasture  there. 
Alas,  her  parted  lips,  how  still  they  smile  ! 
Her  soft,  immobile  face,  her  calling  gaze ! 
Now  from  me  fall  the  whole  world's  memory, 


AGATHON  53 

And  hang  henceforth,  my  thoughts,  your  starlight 

here  ! 
What    art    thou,  —  speak  !  —  like   Aphrodite 


In  mystery  clad  and  raiment  of  desire  ? 
Yet  speak  not  ;  so  thy  silence  is  more  sweet 
Even  than  thy  song,  I  would  not  have  thee  speak. 
Still  as  the  light  that  streams  from  thee,  gaze  on, 
Sunning  thy  treasures  in  thy  tresses'  gold  ! 
Oh,  thou  art  lovely,  maiden,  thou  art  fair, 
But  to  be  loved  is  more  than  to  be  fair. 
Lift  up  thy  eyes  to  mine,  look  with  the  soul, 
And  in  light  reach  me  ! 

[The  PHANTASM  reveals  itself.  Agathon  starts  back, 
and  the  PHANTASM  changes,  sinking,  as  the  cave 
darkens. 

'T  is  not  thee,  not  thee  ! 
It  is  not  thee  I  serve  !     O  thou  one  face 
That  art  the  sweetness  of  my  thousand  dreams, 
Beam  on  me,  and  uncharm  these  hoodless  orbs  ! 
Ah,  base,  base,  base  !     I  saw  the  nether  fire 
Dilated  glow,  with  expectation  ripe, 
The  brutish  spark  !     0  Eros,  art  thou  gone  ? 
Didst  thou  not  mark  it,  like  a  meteor  globed, 
Glance  down  the  blue  rift  and  low-eddying  gleam 
Deep-whirled  ?     And  in  its  fiery  womb  I  saw 
The  twisted  serpent  ringing  woe  obscene, 
And  far  it  lit  the  pitchy  ways  of  hell  ! 
Alas,  that  horror  !     Eros,  Eros,  Eros  — 
I  cannot  find  thee.  [AGATHON  falls. 


54  AGATE OH 

EROS  sings. 

In  waste  places  of  the  night 
Joy  once  wandered  out  of  light, 
And  when  he  parted  thence  on  high 
The  Desolation  heard  her  first-horn's  cry  ; 
Yet  another  birth  was  nigh, 
Hell-engendered,  lean  and  scant, 
In  the  starved  womb  of  Want. 
Eros,  born  the  elder,  I ; 
Anteros,  he ;  at  one  same  birth 
Nourished  at  the  breasts  of  Dearth. 
Oft  our  pathways  cross  on  earth, 
Though  we  seek  a  different  goal, 
For  the  way  lies  through  the  soul. 
Oft  he  wrestles,  might  and  main, 
To  break  the  palm-branch  in  my  hand ; 
In  the  torch-race  oft  doth  strain 
To  quench  in  dust  my  burning  brand  ; 
But  my  strength  from  heaven  derives, 
Victor  stays,  howe'er  he  strives. 

Another  fortune  with  the  sons  of  men 
His  hazardous  encounter  hath  ; 
Safer  the  Lernaean  den, 
Or  old  Scylla's  toothed  wrath, 
To  wayfarer  or  helmsman  of  the  wave  ; 
So  many  thousands  find  in  him  the  grave. 
By  avenues  of  soft  approach, 
And  fair  delights  to  high-placed  fortune  due, 
Upon  prosperity  doth  he  encroach ; 
Seeming  all  sympathy  and  sorrow  true, 


AGATHON  55 

With  wretchedness  its  fallen  pride  doth  rue, 

And  some  poor  betterment  as  falsely  show ; 

But  all  in  general  wreck  doth  ever  overthrow. 

So  fond  is  man,  though  seeming  wise, 

From  his  own  heart  to  spin  fair  lies, 

And,  by  himself  deluded,  worst  slavery  to  endure  ; 

Nor  any  truth  were  now  kept  bright  and  pure, 

Nor  for  a  single  hour 

Were  man  secure 

Against  that  secret,  sullen,  undermining  tide, 

But,  to  my  strength  allied, 

Love   stoops   from   heaven,    clad   in    dismaying 

power. 

Foolish  they  are  who  think  him  soft. 
The  Avenger  he  ! 
His  cloudless  throne 
Oft  sends  the  thunder  down 
On  mortals ;  as  when  Zeus  aloft 
Is  angered  in  his  heart  to  see 
Some  insolent  lord  to  fullness  blown  — 
Instant  of  the  Thunderer  aware, 
Under  his  golden  seat 
The  winged  terror  at  his  feet, 
Eagle  of  god,  sun-nurtured,  fierce  for  prey, 
Flashes  on  the  storming  cloud 
With  beak  thrust  out  and  riding  pinions  loud  ; 
Sees,  and  plunges  from  the  air, 
And,  darkening  the  blaze  of  day, 
Swoops  the  offended  law  ; 
And  on  the  race  of  men  beholding  falleth  awe. 


56  AGATE  ON 

Or  like  to  him  heroic  song  once  saw 

Leave  his  bright  station  on  Olympus'  crown, 

To  Ida  coming ;  terrible  the  clang 

Of  the  full  quiver  on  his  armed  shoulders  rang  ; 

Terrible  the  bow-string  sang  ; 

Like  night  the  mighty  arrow  sprang ; 

First  on  beasts,  and  then  on  men  ; 

Pestilence  did  the  armies  pen  ; 

With  funeral  pyres 

The  wide  camp  smokes  and  death-choked  fires. 

Such  things  the  poets  feign 
Of  god-inflicted  pain ; 
But  to  the  inner  eye 
Secret  that  force  and  nigh  ; 
In  the  blood  implicate, 
In  nerve  and  bone 

The  burning  serpent,  in  the  heart  a  stone, 
Invisible  fate 

Astonishes,  struck  with  internal  rout, 
The  body's  faculties,  and  puts  them  out; 
Dries  up  the  vital  lamp  ; 
Dissolves  the  mind's  own  harmony ; 
Lets  madness  in,  and  uncontrolled  be  ; 
Dismantles  virtue's  hold ; 
Uncasts,  imperial  wreck,  reason's  large  mould ; 
And  in  the  soul 

Unmints  the  image  of  its  heavenly  stamp ; 
Erases  and  abolishes  the  whole. 
O  ruin  absolute,  and  not  to  be  withstood 
By  the  frail  mortal  brood ! 


AGATHON  57 

Avenging  Love !     Oh,  terrible 
The  brightness  of  thy  burning  stroke 
Illumes  the  darkness  when  the  victim  falls ! 
One  moment  on  his  eyeballs  broke 
The  whole  eternal  fabric,  heaven  and  hell, 
Thy  glory,  unsearchable, 
And  oft  then  first  descried 
When  to  the  light  he  died ! 
Yet  not  to  darkness  left, 
And  utterly  bereft, 
If  any  soul  be  capable  of  light ; 
For  He,  who  framed  man  at  His  will, 
Did  in  the  inward  parts  distill 
Such  sensible,  ethereal  force, 
That  there  immortal  sorrows  course, 
Not  fatal,  but  with  issues  bright ; 
Woes  of  the  heart  unburdening 
That  fondly  to  this  mould  will  cling ; 
Pangs  of  the  spirit  when  it  dies, 
Yet  strives  on  thoughts  of  heaven  to  rise. 
O  one  true  sacrifice  ! 
Where  never  incense  upward  clomb 
Of  holocaust  or  hecatomb, 
The  lone  heart  shall  His  secrecy  surprise 
Far  in  the  unapparent  skies. 

For  who  hath  once  known  light  within, 
And  entered  on  heaven's  pilgrimage, 
The  under-world,  whence  souls  begin, 
Shall  nevermore  his  steps  engage  ; 
Though  oft  he  suffer  pain, 


58  AGATHON 

In  peril  seeming  lost, 
On  darkness  tost, 
He  shall  be  found  again, 
Light  shall  to  him  return. 
So  into  safety  brought, 
And  hardly  taught 

That  souls  most  beautiful  are  framed  most  stern, 
Seeing  the  black  and  Stygian  flood 
Redden,  beneath  Love's  scourge,  in  seas  of  blood, 
And,  livid  with  lightnings  of  his  flame, 
Sink  whence  it  came, 

Leaving  its  wrecks  along  the  mortal  shore, 
With  wiser  praise 
He  shall  the  paean  raise, 

And  Love,  the  Avenger,  sing,  who  saves  him,  ever 
more.  [AGATHON  wakes. 
AGATHON. 

And  art  thou  here  ?  and  dost  thou  love  me  still, 
As  when  thou  didst  confide  thyself  to  me  ? 
Then  leapt  my  heart  up  at  thy  darling  name, 
That  slipped  on  that  dark  air,  as  slips  a  star ; 
But  whether  more  of  mystery  or  of  light 
It  yields,  beauty  or  sorrow  has,  who  knows  ? 
Oh,  yet  one  moment  in  the  darkness  here 
Bend  thy  full  soul  on  mine  !     So  lovers'  eyes 
Gaze  on  each  other  lost,  and  suffer  all ! 

EROS. 

The  cords  of  birth  do  not  so  strictly  bind, 
The  bonds  of  Nature  are  less  absolute 


AGATHON  59 

Than  our  communion  :  be  not  thou  afraid ; 
I  cannot  leave  thy  side  until  the  soul 
That  passions  in  thee  gives  me  to  my  peace ; 
Only  through  thee  I  come  unto  the  gods. 

AGATHON. 

I  know  how  strong  are  forged  love's  bright  links 
Where  virtue  is,  and  truth,  and  innocence  ; 
My  heart  has  no  such  metal ;  and  thou,  alas, 
How  near  thy  eyes  see  my  mortality ! 

EROS. 

Be  not  distrustful,  nor  with  shame  o'ercome 
Whom  sin  o'ercame  not ;  in  thy  secrecy, 
All  bare  and  open  to  the  god's  pure  sight, 
And  naked  as  the  desert  to  the  sun 
He  every  part  surveys,  there  truest  known 
Where  light  is  most ;  for  oft  dishonored  here, 
Defeated  and  given  o'er  (since  wisest  men 
Discern  but  little  in  another's  life, 
And    scarce    themselves  dare   judge),  the   soul 

stands  there 

In  garlanded  and  sweet-hymned  victory, 
Lovely,  and  oft  majestic  after  pain. 
It  is  the  fool  that  judges  ;  so  judge  not  thou, 
But  rather  from  the  judgments  of  high  heaven 
Bethink  thee  how  to  pluck  eternal  law. 
Let  not  dejection  on  thy  heart  take  hold 
That  Nature  hath  in  thee  her  sure  effects, 
And  beauty  wakes  desire.    Should  Daphne's  eyes, 


60  AGATHON 

Leucothea's  arms  and  clinging  white  caress, 

The  arch  of  Thetis'  brows,  be  made  in  vain  ? 

Beauty  is  universal  nature's  lure  ; 

The  gods  themselves  from  beauty  seek  increase ; 

The  fiery  soul  is  natured  like  the  gods, 

And  hath  like  motions,  and  therein  is  fixed 

Immortal  generation  :  whence  in  it 

Creative  passion  and  divine  desire 

That  suffer  not  to  mate  with  mortal  things, 

But  beauty  equal  to  eternal  date 

It  seeks,  and  finds  it  in  the  virgin  soul. 

Love  giveth  not  his  flame  to  rosy  cheeks, 

Nor  to  the  oratory  of  bright  eyes 

Yields  his  commission  up,  nor  to  the  lips 

That  breathe  his  vows  renders  his  constancy ; 

But  where  the  spirit  within  doth  live  insphered 

In  noble  thoughts,  fair  actions,  and  kind  words, 

He  is  enthroned,  with  mutual  hearts  conjoined 

In  virtue,  courtesy,  and  married  lives 

That  so  uniting  more  with  heaven  unite. 

He  is  not  fit  to  love  that  knows  not  this. 

AGATHON. 

This  was  the  beam  that  chastened  my  young  eyes 
In  early  visitation  found  and  loved, 
And  beauty's  first  surprisal ;  loving  it, 
That  love  in  me  conquered  the  lower  love. 
Yet  something  will  intrude  ;  though  found  at  last, 
That  dear  response  and  union  of  the  soul, 
Though  held  secure  against  time's  disarray, 


AGATHON  61 

(So  clearer  shines  the  eternal  ornament,) 
Death  snatches  all,  and  bears  it  underground, 
Where  weeps  Persephone,  and  at  the  gates 
The  golden  lute  of  Orpheus  shattered  lies. 

EROS. 

The  wisest  doctrine  darkens  near  the  grave  ; 
On  Nature  and  thy  frame  of  mystery 
Where  truth  works  nearest,  ground  thy  faith  the 

same. 

Nature  seeks  life  —  no  more ;  where  vigor  is 
Beauty  implants  and  joy,  that  measure  life 
Flowing  and  ebbing ;  thence  her  art  secretes 
The  loaded  seeds  and  vessels  of  her  force 
Ere  falls  the  prime  in  ugliness  and  pain, 
Death  incomplete,  and  ashy  death  at  last ; 
She  with  new  bursts  mocks  mutability, 
And  stays  her  shifting  empire.     In  fair  things 
There  is  another  vigor,  flowing  forth 
From  heavenly  fountains,  the  glad  energy 
That  broke  on  chaos,  and  the  outward  rush 
Of  the  eternal  mind ;  and  as  they  share 
In  this  they  to  the  soul  are  beautiful. 
It  bendeth  not,  nor  lower  will  converse 
Than  with  that  perfect  and  eternal  being 
Which  beauty  portions;  hence  the  poet's  eye 
That  mortal  sees  creates  immortally 
The  hero  more  than  men,  not  more  than  man, 
The  type  prophetic  ;  hence  in  marble  shines 
The  god,  but  never  down  Olympus'  slopes 


62  AGATHON 

Nor  in  Idalian  meadows  stepped  so  proud 

In  grace,  joy,  love,  beauty,  and  majesty. 

Thus  beauty,  as  the  Graces  throwing  gifts 

On  Aphrodite  make  her  visible, 

Endues  immortal  substance  and  unveils 

The  bright  original,  in  all  things  bright, 

But  only  in  the  reason  seen  divine, 

And  there  adored  in  present  deity. 

And  dream  not  this  the  dreaming  of  the  mind. 

The  soul  hath  its  own  order,  and  its  laws, 

Strict  in  its  element  as  Nature's  bond, 

Are  heavenly  regents  of  its  destined  course ; 

They  bend  the  future  to  the  thing  to  be, 

And  in  the  accomplished  hour  disburden  fate. 

Wisdom  is  but  their  foretaste ;  obeying  them, 

(And  what  is  virtue  but  obeying  them  ?) 

Thou    leaguest  with  heaven's  will,  its  nursling 

thou, 

And  of  its  purposes  the  choicest  part ; 
So  shall  thy  soul  be  grappled  round  with  fate, 
And  on  the  centre  stayed  thy  fabric  stand. 
To  trust  thyself  is  half  thy  victory  : 
The  soul  that  doubteth,  it  doth  daily  die, 
Thou  knowest ;  and  clearer  proof  to  thee  I  bring, 
The  light  and  language  in  thyself  o'erheard, 
Showing  the  way  and  passport  to  the  god. 
Thou  knowest  it  the  circle  of  thy  wits  — 
From  beauty  all  things  have  their  origin ; 
In  virtue  permanence  ;  consummation  seek 
Only  in  love ;  thy  soul  the  witness  is. 


AGATHON  63 

AGATHON. 

Glimpses  at  times  the  heavenly  spark  in  me 
Hath  shed,  nor  now  first  heard  I  know  the  soul. 
But  oh,  too  feeble  faith  is,  self-derived, 
Self-seeking,  on  the  little  round  of  self 
Narrowly  based  !  but  rather  unto  Truth, 
As  to  Parnassus'  bare  and  calling  height, 
Should  leap  the  bright  ascent ;  or  as  the  sun, 
His  burning  rays  advancing  gloriously, 
Moves  with  immeasurable  azure  sphered 
And  golden  empire  of  his  unbraved  beam, 
The  soul  should  make  the  heaven  through  which 

it  moves 

And  in  its  own  light  chariot  its  course. 
Is  there  no  other  Way  ? 

EROS. 

Another  Way  there  is, 
So  have  I  heard ;  not  yet  the  gates  unlock. 
And  oh,  not  thine  the  praise,  dear  Mount  of  Joy, 
That  heard'st  the  world's  first   music ;    not  by 

thee, 

Nor  o'er  thy  married  peaks,  the  Way  to  heaven  ! 
Deep  sinks  the  gulf  ;  the  rushing  breath  thereof, 
O  Delphian,  had  rent  thy  oracle  ! 
Oh,  then,  what  mortal  lips  shall  frame  the  word  ? 
Who  dare  the  cleft  ?     What  god  shall  he  invoke 
Save  the  eternal  will  that  lies  on  him  ? 
He  bears  the  burden  of  man's  broken  hopes ; 
Sorrowing  he  goes  and  treads  the  paths  of  loss  ; 


64  AGATHON 

As  far  as  falls  the  gulf  with  whirling  fate 
His  soul  must  follow.     Not  with  him  go  I, 
The  heaven-climber  ;  but  one  companions  him, 
Oh,  how  unlike  to  me,  Divine  Desire, 
Whose  pathway  leaves  eternal  light  behind ; 
To  me,  oh,  how  unlike,  Child  of  the  god ! 
'T  is  Love  himself  —  so  is  it  noised  above  — 
Shall  wear  mortality  beneath  these  stars, 
And,  journeying,  that  Way  of  Sorrow  show  ; 
He  smooths  the  dark  descent,  and  goes  before. 
Not  yet  He  comes. 

AGATHON. 

A  mystery  thou  speakest 
That  yet  familiar  to  the  heart  of  man 
Seems  truth  most  native  to  his  breast  who  loves 
And  knows  what  Love  is.  I  did  praise  him  once  ; 
Called  him  the  youngest  of  the  gods ;  most  blest ; 
The  tenderest ;  the  nestler  in  soft  hearts  ; 
Most  just,  who  neither  does  nor  suffers  wrong ; 
The  bravest,  Ares'  tamer  ;  in  temperance  first, 
Who  ruleth  all  desires,  all  passions  quells ; 
The  best  beloved,  darling  of  gods  and  men. 
Before   he   came   in   heaven   were    chains    and 

wounds, 

Revolts,  dethronements,  mutilations,  wrecks, 
Old  realms  defrauded  and  the  new  defiled, 
Necessity's  hard  reign  ;  but  he  brought  in 
Sweetness  and  peace,  and  in  smooth  order  set 
The  empire  of  the  gods,  and  gave  them  gifts : 


AGATHON  66 

The  throne  to  Zeus  and  to  the  Muses  song ; 
Apollo's  healing  and  divining  art, 
Hephaestus'  forge,  Athene's  loom,  thank  him ; 
Out  of  his  loins  is  every  good  thing  sprung  ; 
Inventor  and  inspirer,  wise  in  works ; 
Suggester  of  fair  shapes  ;  persuasion's  lips ; 
The  poet  whose  touch  makes  all  men  poets  he, 
And  hearts  that  had  no  music  breathe  it  forth ; 
And  fame  he  gives,  making  all  art  beloved. 
He  fills  men  with  affection,  voids  their  hate  ; 
He  maketh  them  to  meet  at  friendly  feasts, 
At  sacrifice  and  dance,  the  priest,  the  lord  ; 
Kindness  supplies,  unkindness  banishes  ; 
Friendship  he  gives,  and  forgives  enmity  ; 
Joy  of  the  good  and  wonder  of  the  wise, 
The  gods'  amazement ;  most  desired  by  those 
Who  have  him  not,  and  precious  unto  whom 
He  is  their  better  part ;  softness  and  grace, 
Delicacy,  luxury,  fondness  and  desire, 
His  children  are ;  he  's  careful  of  the  good, 
But  of  the  evil  mindeth  not  at  all ; 
In  every  word  and  deed,  in  hope  and  fear, 
The  pilot,  comrade,  helper,  saviour,  he  ; 
The  glory  of  the  gods,  the  praise  of  men, 
The  leader  best  and  brightest !  in  choral  march 
Let  each  man  in  his  footsteps  following  tread, 
And  honoring  him  sing  sweetly  the  sweet  strain 
With  which  Love  charms  the  souls  of  gods  and 
men  ! 


66  AGATEON 

EROS. 

Fragrant  thy  praise  is  and  immortal-hymned  ; 
This  breath  of  thine,  this  little  golden  breath, 
When  Athens  lies  behind  like  Babylon, 
Shall  be  love's  censer  !     Delphi  shall  be  mute, 
Athene's  wisdom  oracled  in  stone 
Be  shattered  ;  in  another  country  then 
(Though  desert  now  and  roaring  seas  between) 
Thou  shalt  be  loved  ;  such  charm  the  Muses  give. 
But  look  lest  thou  their  bright  occasions  lose. 
The  poet's  heart  is  a  wise  counselor ; 
Oh  —  for  thou  canst  —  invoke  Urania  now, 
That  she  through  song  may  yield  thee  thy  de 
sire. 

AGATHON  sings. 

Muse  of  the  eternal  tune, 

O'erheard  in  Nature's  starry  rune ; 

Whom  mortals  in  themselves  discern 

By  thoughts  that  from  thy  fingers  burn ; 
And  the  heart  divinely  falls 
To  native  hymns  and  madrigals  ! 

Thou,  the  Wisdom  of  the  sphere, 

Whom  most  by  inward  sight  we  fear, 

Since  souls  o'erwrought  through  thee  may  pierce 

The  violet-girdled  universe ; 

And  the  truth  to  us  is  given 

With  the  shining  't  hath  in  heaven  ! 


AGATHON  67 

Sacred  passion  seizes  me 

Through  love  of  the  divinity  ; 

Oft  upon  my  eyelids  stream 

Bright  visions  of  thy  borrowed  beam  ; 

Hear,  and  have  me  in  thy  grace ; 

Thee  I  implore  to  see  Love's  face  ! 

URANIA,  unseen. 
To  man's  spirit-visioned  eye, 
As  the  robeless  world  doth  lie 
To  the  sun  when  clouds  disperse, 
Unsheltered  lies  the  universe. 
Hoar  Nature's  solitary  heir, 
He  looks  on  earth  and  sea  and  air ; 
Thought's  empire-making  word  he  wills, 
The  great  domain  responsive  thrills  ; 
Break  from  the  bases  of  the  earth 
The  fire-scrawled  legends  of  their  birth  ; 
Flash  sun  and  planet,  wheel  in  wheel, 
Nor  dare  the  central  poise  conceal ; 
And  dateless  stars  of  Chaldee  stay 
His  subtler  influence  to  obey. 
The  viewless  pulses  of  keen  force 
Traverse  their  ethereal  course ; 
Beneath  his  eye  their  films  withdraw ; 
He  sees  the  essences  of  law. 
What  he  knows  a  fragment  is 
Of  what  destiny  maketh  his ; 
Even  beyond  hope's  climbing  border 
Unknown  worlds  shall  Science  order ; 


68  AGATHON 

Her  dominions  distance  far 
The  lone  ray  of  the  outer  star. 

Yet  to  her  is  set  a  bound, 
Nor  words  divine  by  her  are  found. 
Nature  will  not  cast  for  thee        "  •'--. 

x^ 
The  starry  robe  of  deity. 

Mortal,  rack  her  nerves  no  more, 
Nor  in  her  frame  the  god  explore ! 
Her  tongues  of  fire  forget  the  word 
In  star-song  nor  in  sea-chime  heard, 
Nor  on  Dodona's  sacred  breeze. 
Go,  sift  with  light  the  Pleiades  ; 
And  clothe  anew  the  fossil  bone ; 
Of  force,  resolve  the  monotone  ; 
Weigh,  number,  chart,  infer  and  sum  — 
Not  from  without  the  god  will  come. 
Never  through  the  senses'  portal 
Gleamed  that  Power,  of  all  the  source, 
The  large-libertied  Immortal 
Who  inhabits  Fate  and  Force. 
Nature  has  no  path  to  him, 
But  rather  shows  man,  dumb  and  dim, 
Back  to  himself  her  mazes  wind 
And  laws  of  things  are  laws  of  mind. 
He  the  conscious  Being  only 
Of  the  world  whereon  he  gazes ; 
He  the  sceptred  sovereign  lonely 
In  whose  state  its  glory  blazes  ! 

Yet,  look  home :  there  shalt  thou  find, 
Orb  in  orb,  eternal  mind. 


AGATHON  69 

Naught  is  knowledge  but  the  light 

Unsealing  thy  immortal  sight. 

Naught  is  beauty  but  the  eye 

Led  captive  by  divinity. 

For  truth  divine  is  life,  not  lore, 

Creative  truth,  and  evermore 

Fashions  the  object  of  desire 

Through  love  that  breathes  the  spirit's  fire. 

It  loves,  and  loving  grows  more  bright, 

And,  changing  to  its  own  delight, 

Doth  ever  in  itself  express 

And  image  the  god's  loveliness. 

Love  beauty,  and  thy  soul  grows  fair ; 

Love  wisdom,  virtue  harbors  there ; 

Love  love,  the  god  thou  canst  not  miss  — 

Within  thy  heart  his  secret  is. 

The  spark  within,  the  self-fed  flame, 

From  those  twin  hands  of  blessing  came, 

That  cast  the  massy  earth's  blue  round 

And  in  man's  bosom  virtue  found. 

Thy  acre  of  eternal  fate 

Is  broad  enough  to  bear  thy  weight ; 

Take  thou  the  scope  the  god  doth  give, 

And  fear  not  from  the  heart  to  live  ! 

Behold  the  sacred  words  I  sing 
Are  but  thy  spirit  laboring  : 
So  near  the  nameless  mystery  lies, 
Revealed,  though  hidden,  to  thy  eyes  ; 
The  vision  seen,  its  form  and  light 
Are  only  with  thy  shining  bright ; 


70  AGATHON 

Unveiling  him,  I  unveil  thee, 
And  bare  thy  inmost  privacy. 

[AGATHON,  entranced,  sinks  as  in  sleep. 

EROS  sings. 

Tranced  now  his  eyelids  be 
Seals  of  light  and  secrecy ; 
Slumber,  poet,  and  still  keep 
Golden  vigils  in  thy  sleep, 
And,  waking,  bring  the  world  divine 
Through  thy  opening  eyes  to  shine ! 

Now  I  leave  mortality  ; 
This  dear  heart  has  set  me  free, 
Through  the  sacred  passion  burning 
That  denotes  his  home-returning, 
Where  the  gods  in  joy  recline, 
And  the  sphere  is  all  divine. 
Here  I  scatter  ere  I  go 
Thoughts  that  in  white  lilies  blow, 
Hopes  that  in  sweet  violets  breathe, 
Memory,  the  starred  moss  beneath ; 
These  for  Agathon  shall  be 
The  woven  crown  of  victory. 
But  to  heaven  I  ascend, 
And  better  there  the  soul  befriend, 
With  the  glad  gods  interceding, 
Till  again  my  pinions  greet 
The  young  hearts  that  love  my  leading, 
Dear  as  Hermes'  ivory  feet 
Down  the  purple  ether  steering, 


AGATHON  71 

To  the  souls  in  prison  nearing, 
With  the  holy  meadow's  bloom ; 
I  shall  touch  them  in  the  gloom, 
And,  starlike,  from  my  hending  eyes, 
The  sweet  beam  of  divine  surprise 
Shall  in  a  moment  teach  them  more 
Than  all  the  worlds  of  light  before. 


72  AGATHON 

SCENE  in. 

DIOTIMA'S  cave ;  dawn  without. 
AGATHON  wakes.     DIOTIMA  beside  him. 

DlOTIMA. 

Canst  thou  interpret  this  ? 

AGATHON. 

0  prophetess, 

Thou  knowest ;  this  rock  was  riven  in  twain, 
And  over  me  the  glistening  purple  deep, 
Sparkling  with  starry  hosts,  began  to  pale 
With  morning,  and  the  sleeping  vales  beneath 
Broke  into  thousand  shadows,  violet-winged, 
That  in  their  motions  died,  and  gleaming  hills 
Unbosomed  their  fair  slopes  unto  the  east 
That  molten  burned :  then  from  that  cloudless 

throne 

Light  issued  like  a  pillar  of  burning  gold 
Sea-based ;  and  Phosphor  in  the  rosy  flush 
Folded  the  stars  upon  the  hills  of  dawn. 
New  earth,  new  heavens !     Never  land  I  saw 
That  promised  roving  in  such  pastures  sweet 
Since  through  the  woods  that  front  the  sacred 

dawn 

I  came,  and  music  in  my  heart  was  born, 
And  at  my  feet  broke  the  deep  sea  of  song. 
And  One  whose  presence  left  the  orient  bare, 
Came  ;  of  the  image  that  my  soul  had  stamped 


AGATE  ON.  73 

This  was  the  living  and  god-motioned  form. 

0  mortal  speech,  how  truth  disdaineth  thee, 
The  dark  confuser !     Beautiful  he  stood  — 
The  feet  that  never  wandered  from  the  god, 
The  eyes  that  yet  remembered  heavenly  light ; 
His  form  advanced  still  sang  his  joyful  speed  ; 
And  in  his  hand  I  marked  a  laurel  branch. 

1  was  o'erawed,  and  darkly  in  that  morn 
I  felt  the  nearer  hovering  of  his  plumes  ; 
He  struck  me  with  the  laurel,  face  and  lips, 
And  low  upon  my  spirit  borne  I  heard  — 
Not  silence,  nor  in  words  of  mortal  speech  — 
"  I  am  the  angel  of  the  god  thou  wouldest ; 
Love  am  I  called,  one  name  in  heaven  and  earth  ; 
And  thee  through  me  He  chooses  :  lift  up  thy 

heart 

High  as  His  will  whose  hope  abides  in  thee ; 
Know  thou  His  mercy  justifies  His  choice." 
And  sleep  a  thousandfold  had  sealed  my  eyes. 
Yet  feel  I  on  my  cheeks  the  laurel  burn. 

DIOTIMA. 
The  gods  have  been  with  thee :  obey  the  gods ! 


MY   COUNTRY 


MY  COUNTRY 

WHO  saith  that  song  doth  fail  ? 

Or  thinks  to  bound 

Within  a  little  plot  of  Grecian  ground 
The  sole  of  mortal  things  that  can  avail  ? 

Olympus  was  but  heaven's  gate ; 
Not  there  the  strong  Light-bringer  deigned  to 

wait ; 

But  westward  o'er  the  rosy  height, 
His  cloud-sprung  coursers  trample  light ; 
And  ever  westward  leans  the  god  above  the  joy 
ful  steeds ; 
The  light  in  his  eyes  is  prophecy ;  on  his  lips  the 

words  are  deeds ; 
On    whirls   the   burning    Singer ;    earth   wakens 

where  he  speeds. 

The  singing  keels  that  moored  great  Rome 
Silence  o'ertakes  ;  but  his  Immortal  Song, 
To  which  the  world-wide  fates  belong, 
Still  seeks  the  fleeing  shore  and  for  the  gods  a 

home, 
A  new  Ausonia  sings,  swells  o'er  a  mightier 

foam. 

The  citadels  of  Italy 
(Oh  dear  to  him  is  Liberty  !) 
Chained  not  to  her  marble  mountains, 


78  MY  COUNTRY 

Sealed  not  in  her  broken  fountains, 

His  bright  fire  ; 

Up  the  dark  North  it  leapt,  the  masterless  de 
sire  : 

Nor  even  the  Imperial  Isle,  the  Ocean-State, 
Who   Time's  great   order   leads,  and   fastens 

fate, 

Shall  keep  his  speed  across  the  shouting  sea ; 
Destiny  exceeds  her  scope  ; 
The  hope  of  man  exceeds  her  hope  ; 
The  regions  of  the  west  unfold  ; 
New  ages  on  the  god  are  rolled  ; 
The  throning  years  to  be, 
Of  earth's  new  men  the  praise, 
Rise   on   him  where   he   stands  and  bends  his 

dreaming  gaze, 
And    smiles   to   see   the   shore   night   vainly 

shrouds 

Through  tracts  of  ruddy  air  and  darkly-gleaming 
clouds. 

Awake,  O  Land,  and  lesser  fortunes  scorn ! 
Amid  the  darkness,  by  the  eastern  strand, 
Bend  down  thy  ear,  and  hearken  with  thy  hand  ; 
He  comes  who  brings  to  thee  eternal  morn ! 
More  radiant  and  fair 
Than  ever  thy  mornings  were, 
Or  any  rnorn  that  ever  broke  from  night 
Since  the  dear  star  of  dawn  began  his  earthly 
flight ! 


MY  COUNTRY  79 

Oh,  whisper  to  thy  clustered  isles, 
If  any  rosy  promise  round  them  smiles ; 
Oh,  call  to  every  seaward  promontory, 
If  one  of  them,  perchance,  is  made  the  cape  of 

glory  ; 

Oh,  bid  the  mountains  answer  thy  inquire, 
If  any  peak  be  tipped  with  lonely  fire, 

A  shining  name 
And  station  of  the  winged  flame 

Above  the  time's  desire  ! 
Doubt  not,  O  waiting  Land ;    for  who  hath 

power 

To  bar  the  golden  journey  of  the  sun, 
Or  on  time's  dial  set  back  the  destined  hour  ? 
Doubt  not,  but  oh,  thy  heart  within  prepare, 
And  ripen  praise  upon  thy  lips  with  prayer, 
When  the  bright  summons  through  thy  frame 
shall  run 

Of  that  great  day  begun  ! 
Then  heaven  shall  search  thee  with  its  shafts 

of  light, 

And  lay  thy  coverts  and  thy  fastness  bare, 
And  drag  the  Serpent  from  its  human  lair, 
And  on  its  scales  the  swords  of  God  shall  smite, 
Wielded  aloft  by  spirits  that  know  to  fight, 
To  find  the  heart  with  wounds  and  not  to  spare. 
O  wilderness  untried, 

If  thou  dost  cherish, 
Brought  from  the  old  earth's  side, 
The  beasts  that  perish, 


80  MY  COUNTRY 

The  things  that  eat  the  dust  and  darkly  crawl, 
And  in  the  heart  of  nations  poison  all  - — 
Oh,  terrible  that  brightness  will  appall, 
World-justice  hanging  o'er  thee,  and  shall  fall ! 
Seize  thy  spear  and  grasp  thy  sword  ; 

Speak  the  righteous  word  ; 

And  his  battle  rolling  o'er  thee, 

And  his  victory  flashing  round, 

Shall  drive  the  cumbering  brood  before  thee, 

Free  forevermore  thy  ground ; 

Thy  great  ally, 
Leaning  from  the  sky, 

Shall  twine  thy  hair  with  morning  and  the  olive's 
warless  crown ! 

O  Soil  befriending  men, 
Pluck  from  the  Future's  hand  her  iron  pen ; 
While  yet  his  coming  lingers,  oh,  stoop  down, 
And  write  upon  the  threshold  of  thy  earth 
The  word  that  levels  all  men  in  their  birth, 
And  in  thy  love,  and  in  their  spirits'  worth ! 
Be  that  sign,  engraved  on  thee, 
Thy  omen  and  thy  destiny ! 

Look  forth,  O  Land,  thy  mountain-tops 
Glitter ;  look,  the  shadow  drops  ; 
On  the  warder  summits  hoaiy 
Bursts  the  splendor-voiced  story  ; 
Round  the  crags  of  watching  rolled 
The  purple  vales  of  heaven  unfold, 

And  far-shining  ridges  hang  in  air  — 


MY  COUNTRY  81 

Northward  beam,  and  to  the  south  the  promise 

bear. 

Unto  isle  and  headland  sing  it, 
O'er  the  misty  Midland  fling  it, 
From  a  hundred  glorious  peaks,  the  Appalachian 

gold! 
O'er  the  valley  of  the  thousand  rivers, 

O'er  the  sea-horizoned  lakes, 
Through  heaven's  wide   gulf  the  marvelous  fire 

quivers, 
Myriad-winged,   and   every  dwindling  star 

o'ertakes ; 

On  where  earth's  last  ranges  listen, 
Thunder-peaks  that  cloud  the  west 
With  the  flashing  signal  waken  ; 
All  the  tameless  Rockies  own  it  — 
One  great  edge  of  sunrise  glisten ; 
All  the  skied  Sierras  throne  it ; 
And  lone  Shasta,  high  uplifted 
O'er  the  snowy  centuries  drifted, 
Hears,  and  through  his  lands  is  splendor  shaken 
From  the  morning's  jewel  in  his  crest ! 
O  chosen  Land, 

God's  hand 
Doth  touch  thy  spires, 
And  lights  on  all  thy  hills  his  rousing  fires  ! 
O  beacon  of  the  nations,  lift  thy  head  ; 

Firm  be  thy  bases  under  ; 
Now  thy  earth-might  with  heaven  wed 
Beyond  hell's  hate  to  sunder  ! 


82  MY  COUNTRY 

O  Land  of  Promise,  whom  all  eyes 

Have  strained  through  time  to  see, 
Since  poets,  cradled  in  the  skies, 

Flashed  prophecy  on  thee  ! 
O  great  Atlantis,  other  world, 

That  never  voyager  won, 
Though  many  a  shining  sail  was  furled, 

Lost  in  the  setting  sun  ! 
Joy,  joy,  joy !  thy  destiny  hath  found  thee ! 
Now  the  oceans  brighten  round  thee, 
To  thy  heaven-born  fate  ascending  ; 
Thou,  earth's  darling !  thou,  the  yearning 

Of  the  last  hope  in  her  burning, 
Who  shalt  seal  her  womb  forevermore  ! 
Child,  whose  rosy  breath  is  blending 
With  the  morning's  o'er  thee  bending, 
While  the  chorus,  never-ending, 

Swells  from  shore  to  shore  — 
Triumph   of  the  peoples,   anthem  never   heard 

before  ! 
Thou,  the  crowner  of  the  ages, 

Now  the  eagle  seeks  thy  hand  ; 
Poets,  statesmen,  heroes,  sages, 

In  the  long-drawn  portals  stand  ! 
Well  may  mount  to  mount  declare  thee  ; 

Ocean  unto  ocean  sound  thee ; 
To  the  skies  loud  hymns  upbear  thee ; 
Earth  embrace,  and  heaven  bound  thee  ; 

God  hath  found  thee  ! 
Through  the  world  the  tidings  pour, 


MY  COUNTRY  83 

And  fill  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
As  the  wave  of  morning  fills  the  long  Atlantic 

shore ; 

Fills,  and  brims  —  oh,  speed  the  story !  — 
The  emerald  cup  of  thy  great  river-gods  ; 
Brims,  and  through  the  west  down  golden 

sods 

To  the  Pacific  rolls ;  flood  unto  flood  speaks 
glory ! 

O  Fair  Land,  do  thy  eyes 

Dream  paradise  ? 

Or  mortals  fields  are  these,  or  fallen  skies  ? 
Dost  thou  not  hear  Him  singing  in  the 

gold 

The  lofty  paean  thy  long  years  unfold, 
And  joy  divine  that  shines  in  man's  just 
praise, 

Though  yet  a  while  delays 
The    hour    full-orbed,    and    his    unclouded 

blaze  ? 

Of  holy  hymns  and  famous  deeds 
He  casts  before  the  deathless  seeds  ; 
He  wooes  thy  dust  with  rosy  rain  ; 
Of  thy  sweet  months  is  he  so  fain  ; 
Oh,  lovelier  than  the  poets  told, 
Unwreathes   his   brow   to   light   thy   dying 

mould  ! 

And  from  their  morning  bower,  and  from  their 
sunny  lair, 


84  MY  COUNTRY 

Scatters  the  bloom  that  springs 
On  heavenly  pastures  fair, 

And  o'er  thy  bosom  flings 
The  fragrance  of  his  own  immortal  air  ! 
Nor  flowers  alone  are  his,  but  every  fruit 
That  takes  the  breath  of  heaven  fed  from  a  dark 
ened  root ; 

Joy  to  thy  virgin  soil  that  spring  shall  thrill  and 
shoot ! 

Like  Love,  its  coming  sweet, 
With  motions  of  auroral  winds  that  fleet, 
Shadow  and  music,  o'er  the  new  green  wheat ; 
Thy  summer  lights  the  land,  thy  autumn  loads  the 

sea; 

And  still  a  lovelier  year  returns  to  thee ; 
Or  where  the  glowing   South  is  white  like 

wool ; 

Or  where  the  sun-spanned  ocean  of  the  maize 
Broods   in   the   brilliant   calm,  and  lightly 

sways ; 

Or  where  by  inland  seas,  forever  full, 
The  golden  reservoirs  of  summer  days, 
Towers  of  abundance  stand  in  all  thy  ways ; 
Or  further  on,  where  bud  and  fruit  together, 
Immortal  orchards,  star  the  fadeless  weather. 
O  generous  fertility, 
Like  Love,  to  all  men  free  ! 
And  ever  rolls  an  ampler  year,  and  heaven  grows 
ripe  in  thee ! 
For  nobler  yields  than  these, 


M7  COUNTRY  85 

0  favored  Land, 
Are  whispering  with  thy  breeze  — 

The  tillage  of  God's  hand ; 
,And  though  it  seem  thy  own,  this  fair  estate, 

(Or  fief  or  freehold,  ask  of  Day  and  Night) 
The  Eternal  only  sows  the  field  of  fate, 

And  o'er  thy  will  doth  exercise  His  right. 
Thou  canst  not  groove  the  soil  nor  turn  the  sod 
But  thou   shalt  drop  therein  the   seeds  of 

time  ; 
Thy  labor  brings  to  light  the  will  of  God  ; 

Fair  must  the  harvest  be,  and  stand  sublime ; 
And  when  the  mellowing  year  is  made  complete, 
And  for  the  world  thou  reapest  time's  in 
crease, 

He  thrusts  His  sickle  in  the  falling  wheat, 
And  in  thy  bursting  granaries  garners  Peace. 

Oh,  humbly  bow  thee  down, 
Blessed  o'er  all  thou  art ; 
Eai  th's  plenty  in  thy  crown, 

God's  Peace  within  thy  heart ! 
Again,  O  mighty  hymn,  begin  ! 

O  mount,  Virgilian  song  ! 
Let  be  the  suffering  and  the  sin ; 

Thy  years  to  Love  belong ! 
No  Janus-stables  on  thy  soil,  nor  hoof  of  Mars's 

steeds ; 

No  ruin  smokes ;  no  war-bolt  strikes  ;  no  scar  of 
battle  bleeds ; 


86  MY  COUNTRY 

But  fair  as  once  Athene's  height  thy  marble  hill 

shall  rise, 

Where  Justice  reconciles  thy  earth,  Virtue  dis 
arms  thy  skies ! 

As  splendors  of  the  dawn 
Make  earthly  tapers  wan, 
Less  than  a  candle's  beam 
The  world's  first  hope  shall  gleam 
When  o'er  thy  vales  and  soothed  seas  the  truce 
of  time  shall  stream ! 

Come  !  Come !  O  light  divine ! 

O  come,  Saturniau  morn  ! 
O  Land  of  Peace  on  whom  recline 

Ten  thousand  hopes  unborn  — 
O  Beautiful,  stand  forth,  nor  sword,  nor  lance, 

Silent  wielder  of  the  fates  ! 
War-tamer,  striking  with  thy  glance 
The  thunder  from  imperial  states  ! 
So  hard,  surpassing  war,  doth  Peace  assail ; 
So  far,  exceeding  hate,  doth  Love  avail ; 

Now,  married  to  thy  sphere, 
Blessed  between  the  nodding  poles  shall  wheel 
the  earth's  Great  Year. 

O  destined  Land,  unto  thy  citadel, 

What  founding  fates  even  now  doth  peace 

compel, 
That  through  the  world  thy  name  is  sweet 

to  tell! 
O  throned  Freedom,  unto  thee  is  brought 


MY  COUNTRY  87 

Empire ;    nor  falsehood  nor  blood-payment 

asked ; 

"Who  never  through  deceit  thy  ends  hast  sought, 
Nor  toiling  millions  for  ambition  tasked ; 
Unlike  the  fools  who  build  the  throne 

On  fraud,  and  wrong,  and  woe ; 
For  man  at  last  will  take  his  own, 

Nor  count  the  overthrow  ; 
But  far  from  these  is  set  thy  continent, 

Nor  fears  the  Revolution  in  man's  rise ; 
On  laws  that  with  the  weal  of  all  consent, 

And  saving  truths  that  make  the  people  wise : 
For  thou  art  founded  in  the  eternal  fact 
That  every  man  doth  greaten  with  the  act 
Of  freedom  ;  and  doth  strengthen  with  the  weight 
Of  duty ;  and  diviner  moulds  his  fate, 
By  sharp  experience  taught  the  thing  he  lacked, 
God's  pupil;    thy  large  maxim  framed,  though 

late, 

"Who  masters  best  himself  best  serves  the  State. 
This  wisdom  is  thy  Corner :  next  the  stone 
Of  Bounty  ;  thou  hast  given  all ;  thy  store, 
Free  as  the  air,  and  broadcast  as  the  light, 
Thou  fiingest ;  and  the  fair  and  gracious  sight, 
More  rich,  doth  teach  thy  sons  this  happy  lore  : 
That  no  man  lives  who  takes  not  priceless  gifts 
Both  of  thy  substance  and  thy  laws,  whereto 
He  may  not  plead  desert,  but  holds  of  thee 
A  childhood  title,  shared  with  all  who  grew, 
His  brethren  of  the  hearth  ;  whence  no  man  lifts 


88  MY  COUNTRY 

Above  the  common  right  his  claim ;  nor  dares 
To  fence  his  pastures  of  the  common  good  ; 
For  common  are  thy  fields ;  common  the  toil ; 
Common  the  charter  of  prosperity, 
That  gives  to  each  that  all  may  blessed  be. 
This  is  the  very  counsel  of  thy  soil. 
Therefore  if  any  thrive,  mean-souled  he  spares 
The  alms  he  took ;  let  him  not  think  subdued 
The  State's  first  law,  that  civic  rights  are  strong 
But  while  the  fruits  of  all  to  all  belong ; 
Although  he  heir  the  fortune  of  the  earth, 
Let  him  not  hoard,  nor  spend  it  for  his  mirth, 
But  match  his  private  means  with  public  worth. 
That  man  in  whom  the  people's  riches  lie 
Is  the  great  citizen,  in  his  country's  eye. 
Justice,  the  third  great  base,  that  shall  secure 
To  each  his  earnings,  howsoever  poor, 
From  each  his  duties,  howsoever  great. 
She  bids  the  future  for  the  past  atone. 
Behold  her  symbols  on  the  hoary  stone  — 
The  awful  scales  and  that  war-hammered  beam 
Which  whoso  thinks  to  break  doth  fondly  dream. 
Or  Czars  who  tyrannize  or  mobs  that  rage ; 
These  are  her  charge,  and  heaven's  eternal  law. 
She  from  old  fountains  doth  new  judgment  draw, 
Till,  word  by  word,  the  ancient  order  swerves 
To  the  true  course  more  nigh ;  in  every  age 
A  little  she  creates,  but  more  preserves. 
Hope  stands  the  last,  a  mighty  prop  of  fate. 
These  thy  foundations  are,  O  firm-set  State  ! 


MY  COUNTRY  89 

And  strength  is  unto  thee 
More  than  this  masonry 

Of  common  thought ; 

Beyond  the  stars,  from  the  Far  City  brought. 
Pillar  and  tower 

Declare  the  shaping  power, 

Massive,  severe,  sublime, 

Of  the  stern,  righteous  time, 
From  sire  to  son  bequeathed,  thy  eldest  dower. 

Large-limbed  they  were,  the  pioneers, 
Cast  in  the  iron  mould  that  fate  reveres ; 
They  could  not  help  but  frame  the  fabric  well, 
Who  squared  the  stones  for  heaven's  eye  to  tell ; 
Who  knew  from  eld  and  taught  posterity, 
That  the  true  workman 's  only  he 
Who  builds  of  God's  necessity. 
Nor  yet  hath  failed  the  seed  of  righteousness ; 
Still  doth  the  work  the  awe  divine  confess, 
Conscience  within,  duty  without,  express. 
Well  may  thy  sons  rejoice  thee,  O  proud  Land ; 
No  weakling  race  of  mighty  loins  is  thine, 
No  spendthrifts  of  the  fathers  ;  lo,  the  Arch, 
The  loyal  keystone  glorying  o'er  the  march 
Of  millioned  peoples  freed  !  on  every  hand 
Grows  the  vast  work,  and  boundless  the  design. 
So  in  thy  children  shall  thy  empire  stand, 
As  in  her  Caesars  fell  Rome's  majesty  — 
O  Desolation,  be  it  far  from  thee  ! 
Forgetting  sires  and  sons  to  whom  were  given 
The  seals  of  glory  and  the  keys  of  fate 


90  MY  COUNTRY 

From  Him,  whom  well  they  knew  the  Rock  of 

State, 
Thy  centre,  and  on  thy  doorposts   blazed   His 

name 

Whose  plaudit  is  the  substance  of  all  fame, 
The  sweetness  of  all  hope  —  forbid  it,  Heaven ! 

Shrink  not,  O  Land,  beneath  that  holy  fear ! 

Thou  art  not  mocked  of  God ; 
His  kingdom  is  thy  conquering  sphere, 

His  will  thy  ruling  rod  ! 
O  Harbor  of  the  sea-tossed  fates, 
The  last  great  mortal  Bound ; 
Cybele,  with  a  hundred  States, 
A  hundred  turrets,  crowned  ; 
Mother,  whose  heart  divinely  holds 

Earth's  poor  within  her  breast ; 
World-Shelterer,  in  whose  open  folds 

The  wandering  races  rest ; 
Advance,  the  hour  supreme  arrives  ; 
O'er  Ocean's  edge  the  chariot  drives  ; 
The  past  is  done  ; 
Thy  orb  begun ; 

Upon  the  forehead  of  the  world  to  blaze, 
Lighting  all  times  to  be  with  thy  own  golden 
days. 

O  Land  beloved ! 
My  Country,  dear,  my  own ! 
May  the  young  heart  that  moved 


MY  COUNTRY  91 

For  the  weak  words  atone  ; 
The  mighty  lyre  not  mine,  nor  the  full  breath  of 

song ! 

To  happier  sons  shall  these  belong. 

Yet  doth  the  first  and  lonely  voice 

Of  the  dark  dawn  the  heart  rejoice, 

While  still  the  loud  choir  sleeps  upon  the  bough ; 

And  never  greater  love  salutes  thy  brow 

Than  his,  who  seeks  thee  now. 
Alien  the  sea  and  salt  the  foam 
Where'er  it  bears  him  from  his  home ; 
And  when  he  leaps  to  land, 
A  lover  treads  the  strand  ; 
Precious  is  every  stone  ; 
No  little  inch  of  all  the  broad  domain 
But  he  would  stoop  to  kiss,  and  end  his  pain, 
Feeling  thy  lips  make  merry  with  his  own  ; 
But  oh,  his  trembling  reed  too  frail 

To  bear  thee  Time's  All-Hail ! 
Faint  is  my  heart,  and  ebbing  with  the  passion  of 

thy  praise ! 

The  poets  come  who  cannot  fail ; 
Happy  are  they  who  sing  thy  perfect  days  ! 
Happy  am  I  who  see  the  long  night  ended, 
In  the  shadows  of  the  age  that  bore  me, 
All  the  hopes  of  mankind  blending, 
Earth  awaking,  heaven  descending, 
,  While  the  new  day  steadfastly 
Domes  the  blue  deeps  over  thee ! 
Happy  am  I  who  see  the  Vision  splendid 


92  MY  COUNTRY 

In  the  glowing  of  the  dawn  before  me, 
All  the  grace  of  heaven  blending, 
Man  arising,  Christ  descending, 
While  God's  hand  in  secrecy 
Builds  thy  bright  eternity. 


SONNETS 


SONNETS 

TO  THOSE  WHO   REPROVED  THE    AU 
THOR  FOR  TOO  SANGUINE 
PATRIOTISM 

THE  riches  of  a  nation  are  her  dead 

Whom  she  hath  borne  to  be  her  memory 
Against  her  passing,  when  that  time  shall  be, 

And  in  the  Csesars'  tomb  she  makes  her  bed ; 

And  oft  of  such  decay  in  books  I  've  read  — 
Carthage  or  Venice,  who  had  wealth  as  we ; 
Yet,  all  too  wise  for  patriots,  blame  hot  me  ! 

I  know  a  nation's  gold  is  not  man's  bread. 

But  rather  from  itself  the  heart  infers 

That  ached  when  Lincoln  died !  those  boyish 
tears 

Still  keep  my  breast  untraitored  by  its  fears ; 
Farragut,  Phillips,  Grant  —  I  saw  them  shine, 

Names  worthy  to  have  filled  a  Roman  line  ; 

If  I  prove  false,  it  is  the  future  errs. 


96  SONNETS  • 


OUR  FIRST  CENTURY 

IT  cannot  be  that  men  who  are  the  seed 

Of   Washington   should  miss  fame's  true  ap 
plause  ; 
Franklin  did  plan  us ;  Marshall  gave  us  laws ; 

And  slow  the  broad  scroll  grew  a  people's  creed  — 

One  land  and  free !  then  at  our  dangerous  need, 
Time's  challenge  coming,  Lincoln  gave  it  pause, 
Upheld  the  double  pillars  of  the  cause, 

And  dying  left  them  whole  —  our  crowning  deed. 

Such  was  the  fathering  race  that  made  all  fast, 
Who  founded  us,  and  spread  from  sea  to  sea 
A  thousand  leagues  the  zone  of  liberty, 

And  built  for  man  this  refuge  from  his  past, 
Unkinged,   unchurched,  unsoldiered;    shamed 

were  we, 
Failing  the  stature  that  such  sires  forecast ! 


SONNETS  97 


TO  LEO  XIII 

THE  German  tyrant  plays  thee  for  his  game  ; 

Italy  curbs  thee  ;  France  gives  little  rest ; 
And  o'er  the  broad  sea  dost  thou  think  to  tame 

God's  young  plantation  in  the  virgin  West  ? 
Three  kingdoms  did  He  sift  to  find  the  seed, 

And  sowed  ;  then  open  threw  the  sea's  wide 

door; 
And  millions  came,  used  but  to  starve  and  bleed, 

And  built  the  great  republic  of  the  poor. 

Remember  Dover  Strait  that  shore  from  thee 
Whole  empires,  hidden  in  the  banked-up  clouds 

Of  England's  greatness  !     Of  all  lands  are  we, 
But  chiefly  Northmen ;  still  their  might  un- 
shrouds 

The  fates  ;  dream  not  their  children  of  this  sod 

Cease  to  be  freemen  when  they  bow  to  God ! 


98  SONNETS 


ON  THE  HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY  OF 
THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

SHE  matched  the  world  in  arms  against  man's 

right, 
And   when  the   Fates    would   stay  victorious 

France, 
With  her  own  conquests  must  they  dull  her 

lance, 

And  legions  worn  with  fadeless  battles  smite. 
O  laugher  at  the  shocks  of  time,  her  might 

Rejoiced  in   more  than  arms !    the  great  ad 
vance 

Through  Europe  of  her  triple  ordinance 
Man  owes  to  her.  — O  Century,  born  to-night, 

Fulfil  her  glory  !     Europe  still  hath  slaves, 
Scourged  by  the  Turk,  mown  by  the  Scythian 

car; 
Siberia,  more  rich  in  heroes'  graves 

Than  the  most  famous  field  of  glorious  war, 
Yet  waits ;  and  by  the  bloody  Cretan  waves 
Man  suffers  hope,  and  pleads  his  woe  afar. 


SONNETS  99 


AT  GIBRALTAR 


ENGLAND,  I  stand  on  thy  imperial  ground, 
Not  all  a  stranger  ;  as  thy  bugles  hlow, 
I  feel  within  my  blood  old  battles  flow  — 

The  blood  whose  ancient  founts  in  thee  are  found. 

Still  surging  dark  against  the  Christian  bound 
Wide  Islam  presses  ;  well  its  peoples  know 
Thy  heights  that  watch  them  wandering  below  ; 

I  think  how  Lucknow  heard  their  gathering  sound. 

I  turn,  and  meet  the  cruel,  turbaned  face. 

England,  't  is  sweet  to  be  so  much  thy  son ! 
I  feel  the  conqueror  in  my  blood  and  race  ; 

Last  night  Trafalgar  awed  me,  and  to-day 
Gibraltar  wakened ;  hark,  thy  evening  gun 

Startles  the  desert  over  Africa ! 


100  SONNETS 


AT  GIBRALTAR 
II. 

THOU  art  the  rock  of  empire,  set  mid-seas 

Between   the  East  and  West,  that  God  has 

built ; 

Advance  thy  Roman  borders  where  thou  wilt, 
"While  run  thy  armies  true  with  his  decrees  ; 
Law,  justice,  liberty  —  great  gifts  are  these  ; 
Watch  that  they  spread  where  English  blood  is 

spilt, 

Lest,  mixed  and  sullied  with  his  country's  guilt, 
The  soldier's  life-stream  flow,  and  Heaven  dis 
please  ! 

Two  swords  there  are :  one  naked,  apt  to  smite, 
Thy  blade  of  war  ;  and,  battle-storied,  one 

Rejoices  in  the  sheath,  and  hides  from  light. 
American  I  am  ;  would  wars  were  done  ! 

Now  westward,   look,   my    country   bids   good 
night  — 
Peace  to  the  world  from  ports  without  a  gun ! 


ITALIAN   VOLUNTARIES 


ITALIAN  VOLUNTARIES 

LINES 

Now  snowy  Apennines  shining 

Should  breathe  my  spirit  hare  ; 
My  heart  should  cease  repining 

In  the  rainbow-haunted  air  ; 
But  cureless  sorrow  carries 

My  heart  beyond  the  sea, 
Nor  comfort  in  it  tarries 

Save  thoughts  of  thee. 

The  branch  of  olive  shaken 

Silvers  the  azure  sea ; 
Winds  in  the  ilex  waken  ; 

Oh,  wert  thou  here  with  me, 
Gray  olive,  dark  ilex,  bright  ocean, 

The  radiant  mountains  round, 
Never  for  love's  devotion 

Were  sweeter  lodging  found ! 


ANECDOTES  OF  SIENA 


IN  THE  PABK. 

ONCE  I  came  to  Siena, 

Traveling  waywardly ; 
I  sought  not  church  nor  palace ; 

I  did  not  care  to  see. 
In  the  little  park  at  Siena, 

Her  famous  ways  untrod, 
I  laid  me  down  in  the  springtime 

Upon  the  daisied  sod. 
New,  but  not  unfamiliar, 

Of  my  boyhood  seemed  the  scene 
The  hillsides  of  Judaea, 

And  Turner's  pines  between  ; 
And  tenderly  the  rugged, 

Volcanic  rock-lands  bare, 
Warm  in  the  April  weather, 

Slept  in  the  melting  air. 
'T  was  April  in  the  valleys ; 

'T  was  April  in  the  sky  ; 
And  from  the  tufted  locusts 

The  sweet  scent  wandered  by  ; 
But  strange  to  me  the  sunshine, 


ANECDOTES   OF  SIENA  105 

And  strange  the  growing  grass  ; 
To  the  branch  that  cannot  blossom 

How  cold  doth  April  pass  ! 
As  lovers,  when  love  is  over, 

Remembering  seem  men  dead, 
Down  on  the  warm  bright  daisies, 

Earth's  lover,  I  laid  my  head  ; 
And  whence  or  why  I  know  not, 

At  the  touch  my  eyes  were  dim, 
And  I  knew  that  these  were  the  daisies 

That  Keats  felt  grow  o'er  him. 


IL 

SODOMA'S  CHRIST  SCOURGED. 

I  SAW  in  Siena  pictures, 

Wandering  wearily ; 
I  sought  not  the  names  of  the  masters 

Nor  the  works  men  care  to  see ; 
But  once  in  a  low-ceiled  passage 

I  came  on  a  place  of  gloom, 
Lit  here  and  there  with  halos 

Like  saints  within  the  room. 
The  pure,  serene,  mild  colors 

The  early  artists  used 
Had  made  my  heart  grow  softer, 

And  still  on  peace  I  mused. 
Sudden  I  saw  the  Sufferer, 

And  my  frame  was  clenched  with  pain ; 


106  ANECDOTES  OF  SIENA 

Perchance  no  throe  so  noble 

Visits  my  soul  again. 
Mine  were  the  stripes  of  the  scourging ; 

On  my  thorn-pierced  brow  blood  ran  ; 
In  my  breast  the  deep  compassion 

Breaking  the  heart  for  man. 
I  drooped  with  heavy  eyelids, 

Till  evil  should  have  its  will ; 
On  my  lips  was  silence  gathered  ; 

My  waiting  soul  stood  stilL 
I  gazed,  nor  knew  I  was  gazing  ; 

I  trembled,  and  woke  to  know 
Him  whom  they  worship  in  heaven 

Still  walking  on  earth  below. 
Once  have  I  borne  his  sorrows 

Beneath  the  flail  of  fate ! 
Once,  in  the  woe  of  his  passion, 

I  felt  the  soul  grow  great ! 
I  turned  from  my  dead  Leader ; 

I  passed  the  silent  door ; 
The  gray-walled  street  received  me ; 

On  peace  I  mused  no  more. 


m. 

"AFTER  DATS  OP  WAITING." 

AFTER  days  of  waiting, 
Rambling  still  elsewhere, 

I  took  the  narrow  causeway, 
Climbed  the  broad  stone  stair  ; 


ANECDOTES    OF  SIENA  107 

Round  the  angle  turning 

With  unlifted  gaze 
In  the  high  piazza  — 

Oh,  the  wasted  days ! 
There  the  great  cathedral 

Came  upon  my  eyes ; 
Nevermore  may  marvel 

Bring  to  me  surprise  ! 
In  the  light  of  heaven 

Builded,  heaven's  delight, 
Never  sculptured  beauty 

Hallowed  so  my  sight ! 
On  the  silent  curbstone 

Long  I  sat,  and  gazed, 
With  the  sainted  vision 

Ever  more  amazed ; 
Rose,  and  past  the  curtain 

Trod  the  pictured  floor, 
Read  Siena's  story, 

Saw  her  glory's  store. 
In  the  high  piazza 

Once  again  I  turned  ; 
Clear  in  heaven's  sunlight 

Prophet  and  angel  burned. 
Still,  whene'er  that  vision 

Comes  upon  my  eyes, 
I  seem  to  see  triumphant 

The  Resurrection  rise. 


VICTOR'S  BIRD 

"  SIENA  —  still  she  sits  upon  her  crags, 

And    on   the   slope   the   dark-stemmed   Mangia 

springs, 

And  o'er  the  crest  the  Campanile  towers  ; 
My  mother,  and  the  mother  of  my  soul ! 
For  from  her  face  I  did  not  need  to  roam 
To  find  my  heaven  ;  there  every  rock  aspires. 
There  once  I  slept,  and  woke  beneath  the  stars, 
And  found  within  my  bosom  a  snow-white  bird, 
A  waif  unknown,  and  stroked  and  loved  its  plumes ; 
And  ever  after  was  I  lightly  named 
The  boy  who  bore  the  bird  within  his  breast. 
Blind  eyes  that  babbled  of  the  thing  of  sense, 
Of  boy  and  bird,  and  missed  the  rhyme  of  life, 
The  voice  of  promise,  echo  of  desire  ! 
For  heavenly  grace  that  hath  made  all  things 

twain, 

Doth  but  divide  them  as  the  hand  and  lyre 
To  free  the  music  of  their  harmony. 
There 's  naught  so  lonely  in  the  world  of  change 
But 't  is  the  prison  of  these  concords  sweet 
When  hearts  shall  find  them ;  therefore  to  the 

boy 
Trifles  are  often  rich  in  miracle  ; 


VICTOR'S  BIRD  109 

Doubt  not  his  treasure  ;  rather  doubt  thy  own. 
The  finding  of  the  bird  was  more  to  me 
Than  the  rich  coffer  of  the  earth  all  gems, 
Than  Rome's  tiara  to  the  shaking  brow, 
Than  continents  of  gold  to  voyaging  kings  ; 
My  whisper  of  the  yonder  world,  my  thought 
Of  the  far  country  and  the  over-seas  — 
'  O  whence,  O  whence,'  I  asked,  and  beautiful 
It  cleft  the  frowning  walls,  and  entered  light, 
And  came  again,  the  warm  sun  on  its  wings, 
And  clasped  with  rosy  feet  my  tender  hands, 
And  shared  my  poverty  and  brought  its  heaven. 

"  The  months  rolled  on  and  swelled  the  young 

tree's  girth  ; 
The  autumn  blew  and  stripped  the  last  year's 

vines ; 
The    stars   of    winter    dropped     their    shining 

strength ; 

The  wild  spring  came  ;  and  as  the  mists  of  morn 
Upon  the  azure  marches  far  away 
Build  towers  of  vantage  over  distant  lands, 
So  by  the  spirit's  breath  my  thoughts  were  driven, 
And  on  the  soul's  horizons,  round  and  round, 
Won  on  the  shining  borders  of  the  world 
Regions  of  vision  ;  evermore  the  bird 
Hung  in  the  morning  sky  above  my  heart, 
As  if  I  too  should  follow  and  fly  with  it 
To  morrows  without  end ;  the  still  noon  dreamt, 
And  unseen  armor  on  the  ether  clanged 


110  VICTOR'S  BIRD 

Virgilian  music  ;  and  the  paths  of  sleep 

Shone  with  white  garments,  gleamed  with  myrtle 

crowns 

Of  youth  in  triumph  bearing  boughs  of  spring ; 
Then  darkened  was  the  hollow  cloud  of  dream, 
And,  angel-watched,  a  glory-lighted  face 
Shining  on  heaven  through  flowers  of  martyrdom 
Filled  my  faint  eyes  with  peace  more  sweet  than 

j°y; 

And  still  the  bird  in  every  vision  flew 

As  he  would  woo  me  to  some  world  removed, 

Forever  breaking,  lingering,  biding  nigh, 

Till  came  the  Word.   'T  was  by  the  marble  brook 

That  jets  neglected  in  the  gray-walled  cirque 

Where  slept  the  Wolf  in  stone  and  slept  the  law  ; 

Silent,  I  gazed  upon  the  mightier  age 

Tombed  in  those  walls  austere  ;  the  bird  in  air 

Shadowed  the  fountain,  and  a  monk  passed  by 

Erasing  those  spread  wings  ;  and  all  at  once 

The  poppy-branch  struck  on  my  dream-drenched 

eyes, 

And  blackness  rolled  upon  the  solid  world, 
And  drowned  it ;  and  there  broke  a  yellow  shaft 
Like  some  great  rift  of  sunset  smiting  through, 
And  on  the  mighty  beam  the  bird,  full  flight, 
Came  singing  out  of  heaven,  songless  till  then, 
A  little  cluster  of  rich-warbled  notes, 
Ever  the  same,  one  thrill,  and  o'er  and  o'er, 
That  fell  upon  my  heart  like  dropping  flames, 
So  strange,  it  seemed  I  knew  not  song  before. 


VICTORS  BIRD  HI 

I  woke  ;  the  music  slept  within  my  breast  — 
And  over  me  the  ancient  walls  leaned  down 
As  with  some  statue's  marble  utterance  ; 
'  How   fair   he   comes  who  brings   his    country 

peace ! ' 

I  heard,  as  plain  as  winds  on  olive  groves. 
'  What  peace  ?  '  I  cried,  and  climbed  the  strait 
ened  ways 

To  where  upon  the  City's  sacred  brow, 
As  to  the  breath  of  the  Eternal  Morn, 
The  mystic  Rose  of  Christ  unfolds  its  leaves, 
The  bower  of  his  earthly  memory  ; 
And  there  I  marked  the  priests  go  ever  in, 
Like  flies  and  gnats  ;  and  on  me  came  the  Voice : 
4  Wouldst  thou  bring  peace  ?     Then  haste  thee  ; 

now,  even  now, 

The  eagles  of  the  Christ  fly  forth  to  war  ! ' 
The   bird   was   gone  —  a   white   and   quivering 

point, 

Breasting  the  blue,  far,  far  beyond  recall 
He  soared,  and  bathed  in  light  his  new-found 

song. 

And  I  arose,  and  as  the  torrents  pour 
In  April,  and  the  water-courses  rush 
To  brim  the  river  that  roars  out  to  sea, 
Desire  from  all  the  spirit's  heights  leaped  down. 
In  wild  tumultuous  thought  and  speed  to  find 
The  ways  of  action  and  the  throng  of  deeds  ; 
And   as,  when   tempests   blow,   the  winds   will 
break 


112  VICTOR' 8  BIRD 

On  flood  and  forest,  and  the  gathering  blast 

Louder  and  longer  swells  one  mighty  note, 

So,  in  that  hour,  one  nature-cadenced  word 

Struck  on  my  soul,  and  smote  its  music  forth, 

Wild  as  a  poet's  in  his  stormy  youth  ; 

And  with  the  night  calm  fell ;  and  with  the  calm 

The  bird  came  silent  home.     For  what  was  I  ? 

A  youth  distrusted,  unallied,  obscure, 

In  all  things  poor  save  that  one  heavenly  gift, 

The  winged  heart  within  my  bosom  hid ; 

And  must  I  loose  it  to  the  flashing  swords, 

And  rifle  the  sweet  lodging  of  my  breast, 

And  bid  the  bird  go  sing  through  Italy 

That  song  of  his  ?     No  other  deed  there  was, 

No  other  way  but  this  to  give  my  life ! 

'  0  bella  Libertd,'  I  caroled  out ; 

The  bird  took  flight,  the  thronged  street  stood 

still ; 

'  O  breath  that  wakes  the  hundred  lyres  of  song, 
O  trump  that  fills  the  thousand  fields  of  fame, 
O  hand  of  Hope,  0  seed  of  Memory, 
Planting  the  future  with  the  past  sublime ! 
O  voice  that  doth  proclaim  the  glorious  peace, 
O  hymn  that  lifts  the  jubilee  of  slaves  — 
The  birth-cry  of  the  nations,  earth's  new  name, 
The  victory's  blazon,  Christ's  eternal  rouse  ! 
Thy  faintest  whisper  quakes  beneath  the  throne, 
And  echoes  in  the  people's  mighty  heart. 
And  gathers  to  the  shout  that  gives  God  hail ! 
O  rushing  from  the  sun-struck  mountain-tops, 


VICTOR'S  BIRD  113 

O  thunder-zoned,  thou  banisher  of  kings, 

0  sweet  thy  smile  that  brings  the  exile  home  ! ' 

"  The  paean  swelled  —  '  0  bella  Liberia  J  ' 

1  sent  from  hill  to  hill  the  singing  word ; 
I  cherished  with  my  life  the  song  I  sang  ; 

I  poured  it  forth,  free  as  the  patriot's  blood, 
The  all  I  was ;  and,  lo,  my  chambered  soul 
Lived  in  a  thousand  nobler  lives  than  mine ; 
For  he  who  standeth  in  the  whole  world's  hope 
Is  as  a  magnet ;  he  shall  draw  all  hearts 
To  be  his  shield,  all  arms  to  strike  his  blow. 
So  round  my  voice  the  globe  of  battle  grew, 
The  war-clash  'gan  to  murmur,  and  my  lips 
Sang  to  the  onset,  and  death  flashing  fell. 
But  evil,  that  doth  cling  to  all  things  here, 
O'ercame  that  triumph.     Yet,  come  all  again, 
I  '11  say  it  o'er  ;  the  dearest  word  of  men, 
The  first  to  seal  the  poet's  virgin  vow, 
The  last  to  wing  the  patriot's  breath  to  heaven, 
Is  Liberty  ;  it  hath  the  heart's  touch  in  it, 
The  pang  of  sacred  deaths,  the  onward  reach 
Of  old  heroic  lives ;  oh,  richly  charged  — 
With     virtue's    spoils    and    dear-prized    honor 

heaped, 

And  ventures  of  such  make  their  precious  worth 
Should  purchase  heaven,  if  any  ransom's  weight 
Leveled  the  beam  of  that  great  counterpoise 
With  even  scales  aloft ;  but 't  is  not  so. 
In  time's  dark  field  must  mortal  valor  fight 


114  VICTOR'S  BIRD 

And  with  the  viewless  future  cope  on  earth. 
Yet  the  good  cause  plants  virtue  in  the  act ; 
'T  is  blessed  ;  and  so,  and  most  through  liberty, 
The  peopled  earth  is  made  the  place  of  souls ; 
And  sooner  shall  the  little  life  of  man 
Cease  to  be  heaven's  prologue  than  his  lips 
Shall  be  untreasured  of  the  word  of  grace 
That  chased   them   half-divine.     Such  thoughts 

be  mine 

Though  captived  —  chained  unto  the  Roman  wall, 
Where  none  but  priests  are  free  !     Oh,  them  I 

curse, 

From  blue-veined  Venice  to  white  Naples'  flush, 
Where'er  across  the  square  of  sun  they  creep 
Through  filth  of  beggars  to  Christ's  open  door  ! 
The  hearts  unransomed  by  the  love  of  man, 
The  lips  that  lie  for  power  and  pray  for  gam, 
The  practised  brains  that  plot  the  baser  age, 
Hunters  of  liberty  the  thousand  years  ! 
They  scourge  the  nations  with  the  holy  Cross, 
And  poison  in  the  wine  the  Sacred  Wounds, 
And  of  our  great  Redemption  bondage  forge ! 
Where   lingers   vengeance  ?      On,   ye   sleepless 

hours! 

And  Thou,  whose  long  age  over  them  yet  rolls  — 
Harvest  this  curse  among  the  quiet  spheres  ! 

"  I  know  not  where  they  died  who  loved  my  song  ; 

I  cannot  suffer ;  joy  is  in  my  heart, 

Joy  of  the  far-flown  bird,  the  empty  breast. 


VICTOR'S  BIRD.  115 

I  die,  but  him  they  could  not  cage  for  death, 
The  bird  whom  I  had  sent  to  fly  and  sing 
From  snowy  Alp  to  ^Etna's  rosy  cloud  ; 
He  nests  within  the  heart  of  Italy." 


IN  THE  SQUARE  OF  ST.   PETER'S 

How  brave  with  heaven  St.  Peter's  fountain  copes, 
And  sheds  the  rainbow  round,  and  silvers  all ! 

Man's  heart  is  such  a  fountain ;  so  his  hopes 
The  rainbow  shed,  and  through  the  rainbow 
fall. 


NEAR 


OH,  tender  are  the  gods,  and  deep  their  scorn, 
Who   write   their  wisdom  on  the  child's  new 
heart  ! 

The  temple  that  saluted  them  at  morn, 
Ruined  and  bare,  silent  they  let  depart. 


LOVE  DELAYED 

THE  Star  that  most  is  mine  once  did  I  see  ; 
No  cloud  there  was  ;  only  the  reddened  air 
Bloomed  round  it  where  it  smiled,  all  bright 
and  fair ; 

Then  most  of  all  love  seemed  divine  to  me. 

So  pure  it  shone  I  could  but  think  of  thee ; 
So  rosily  enclasped,  yet  more  must  dare  ; 

"  So  dost  thou  shine,  my  love,"  nor  could  for 
bear, 

"  So  soft  my  passion  folds  thy  purity  ! " 

But  now  I  see  the  western  star  all  gold 

Hang  o'er  the  high  and  gloomy  Apennine  ; 
And  there  I  read  my  lot  more  truly  told  — 

The  night,  the  penance,  the  far  journey  mine ! 
Still  be  thou  bright !  —  My  heart,  all  dark  and 

cold, 

Suffers  no  light  save  what  from  thee  doth  shine. 
133 


TAORMINA 

GARDENS  of  olive,  gardens  of  almond,  gardens  of 

lemon,  down  to  the  shore, 
Terrace  on  terrace,  lost  in  the  hollow  ravines 

where  the  stony  torrents  pour ; 
Spurs  of  the  mountain-side  thrusting  above  them 

rocky  capes  in  the  quiet  air, 
Silvery-green  with  thorned  vegetation,  sprawling 

lobes  of  the  prickly  pear ; 

High  up,  the  eagle-nest,  small  Mola's  ruin,  cling 
ing  and  hanging  over  the  fall ; 
Nobly  the   lofty,   castle-cragged   hill-top,  famed 

Taormina,  looketh  o'er  all. 
Southward  the  purple  Mediterranean  rounds  the 

far  shimmering,  long-fingered  capes : 
Twenty  sea-leagues  has   the  light  traveled   ere 

out  of  azure  yon  headland  it  shapes ; 
Purple  the  distance,  deep  indigo  under,  save  by 

the  beach  the  emerald  floor, 
Save  just  below  where,  ever  emerging,  lakes  of 

mother-of-pearl  drift  o'er ; 
Deep  purple  northward,  over  the  Straits,  as  far 

as  the  long  Calabrian  blue  ; 
Front  more  majestic  of  sea-mountains  nowhere  is 

there  uplifted  the  whole  earth  through. 


TAORMINA  119 

Seaward  so  vast  the  prospect  envelops  one  half 

the  broad  world,  wave  and  sky ; 
Landward   the   ribbon   of  hill-slanted   orchards 

blossoming    down   from    the    mountains 

high; 
Beautiful,  mighty;  —  yet  ever  I   leave   it,  lose 

and  forget  it  in  yon  awful  clime, 
./Etna,  out  of  the  sea-floor  raising  slowly  its  long- 
skied  ridge  sublime ; 
Heavily  snow-capped,  girdled  with  forests,  ^Etna, 

the  bosom  of  frost  and  fire, 
Roughened  by  lava-floods,  bossed  and  sculptured, 

massive,  immense,  alone,  entire  ; 
Clear  are  the  hundred  white-coped  craters  sunk 

in  the  wrinkled  winter  there  ; 
Smoke  from  the  summit  cloud-like  trailing  lessens 

and  swells  and  drags  on  the  air ; 
./Etna,   the  snow,  the  fire,  the  forest,  lightning 

and  flood  and  ashy  gale  ; 
Terrible  out  of  thy  caverns  flowing,  the  burning 

heaven,  the  dark  hot  hail ! 
JEina,,    the    garden-sweet   mother   of    vineyard, 

corn-tilth,  and  fruits  that  hang  from  the 

sky; 
Bee-pastured  ^iEtna ;  it  charms  me,  it  holds  me, 

it  fills  me,  than  life  is  it  more  nigh  ; 
Till  into  darkness  withdrawn,  dense  darkness  ; 

and  far  below  from  the  deep-set  shore 
Glimmers  the  long  white  surf,  and  uprises  the 

ancient  far-resounding  roar. 


IN  the  shadow  of  JEtna,  sitting  why  comes  it 
back  to  me  — 

The  cry  of  dying  boyhood  beside  the  northern 
sea, 

On  the  hill  where  the  great  horizons  of  life  be 
gan  for  me  ?  — 

I. 

God  dreamt  a  dream  ere  the  morning  woke 

Or  ever  the  stars  sang  out ; 
The  glory,  although  it  never  broke, 
Filled  heaven  with  a  golden  shout. 

And   when  in  the  North  there's  a  quiver 

and  beam 

Of  mystical  lights  that  heavenward  stream, 
The  heart  of  a  boy  will  dream  God's  dream. 

II. 

O  Noras,  who  sit  by  the  pale  sea's  capes, 

Loosen  the  wonderful  shine  ! 
The  glamour  of  God  hath  a  thousand  shapes, 

And  every  one  divine. 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  JSTNA  121 

Dartle  and  listen  o'er  the  blue  height ; 
Drift  and  shimmer,  flight  on  flight ; 
The  heart  of  a  boy  is  God's  delight. 

in. 
Oh,  clamber  and  weave  with  the  Milky  Way 

The  Rose  in  the  East  that  sprang, 
From  star  to  star,  with  blossom  and  spray, 
On  heaven's  gates  to  hang  ! 

O  Vine  of  the  Morning,  cling  and  climb, 
Till  the  stars  like  birds  in  your  branches 

chime ! 
The  heart  of  a  boy  is  God's  springtime. 

IV. 

'T  is  Dawn  that  shadows  the  glowing  roof  ! 

'T  is  Light  with  the  Dragon  strives ! 
Ah,  Night's  black  warp  with  the  rainbow-woof 
The  shuttle  of  Destiny  drives. 

They  swerve  and  falter,  gather  and  fly, 
Wane,  and  shiver,  and  slip  from  the  sky  — 
O  Noras,  is  the  heart  of  a  boy  God's  lie  ? 

v. 
0  Childless  Ones,  would  your  blind  charms 

Might  seal  our  darling's  eyes  ! 
Dead,  with  the  dead  Dawn  in  his  arms, 

In  the  pale  north  Light  lies. 


122  IN  THE  SHADOW  OF 

Glimmer  and  glint,  0  fallen  fire ! 

The  lights  of  heaven  like  ghosts  expire  ; 

The  heart  of  a  boy  is  God's  desire. 

VI. 

O  dream  God  dreamt  ere  the  morning  woke 

Or  ever  the  stars  sang  out ; 
O  glory  diviner  than  ever  broke, 
Of  the  false,  false  dawn  the  shout ! 

False  dawn,  false  dawn,  false  dawn  — 

Alas,  when  God  shall  wake  ! 
False  dawn,  false  dawn,  false  dawn  — 

Alas,  our  young  mistake ! 
False  dawn,  false  dawn,  false  dawn  — 
O  heart  betrayed,  break,  break ! 


BE  God's  the  Hope  !     He  built  the  azure  frame ; 
He  sphered  its  borders  with  the  walls  of  flame ; 
'T  is  His,  whose  hands  have  made  it,  glory  or 
shame. 

Be  God's  the  Hope  ! 

n. 

The  Serpent  girds  the  round  of  earth  and  sea ; 
The  Serpent  pastures  on  the  precious  tree ; 
The  Serpent,  Lord  of  Paradise  is  he. 

Be  God's  the  Hope ! 

in. 

I  thought  to  slay  him.     I  am  vanquished. 
Heaven  needed  not  my  stroke,  and  I  am  sped. 
Yea,  God,  thou  livest,  though  thy  poor  friend  be 
dead. 

Be  God's  the  Hope ! 


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